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HOUGHTON,   MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY, 
Boston  and  New  York. 


SELF-CULTURE 


PHYSICAL,  INTELLECTUAL,  MORAL 
AND    SPIRITUAL 


2E  Course  of  Eccturcs 


JAMES    FREEMAN    CLARKE 


"  Life  is  short,  art  long,  opportunity  fleeting,  experiment  uncertain   and  judgmer? 
difficult." — First  Words  of  the  Aphorisms  ok  Hippocrates. 


TWEJS'TY-THIKD    EDITION 


BOSTON'    AND    NEW    YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN    AND    COMPANY 

£be  ItiUtrsiDe  39n\ss,  CambnDgc 

189S 


7KI 


Copyright,  1880, 
By  JAMES  R.    OSGOOD   AND   COMPANY, 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  THrersirie  Press,  Cambridge,  Mitim.,  V.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  and  Company. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGB 

introductory  chapter:   beginnings  of  culture,  in 
Childhood.  —  Natural  and  Artificial  Methods 

in  the  Education   of  Children 3 

LECTURE 

I.    Man's  Duty  to  Grow 31 

II.    Training  and  Care  of  the  Body 53 

III.  The  Use  of  Time 71 

IV.  Self-Knowledge 93 

V.    Education  of  the  Powers  of  Observation  .  113 

VI.    Education  of  the  Reflective  Powers       .     .  131 

VII.    The   Intuitional  Nature 155 

VIII.    Tin:  Imagination 175 

IX.    Education  of  the  Conscience 195 

X.    Education    of    the    Affections    and    Social 

Powers 221 

XI.    The   Organ  of  Reverence,  and   its  Cultiva- 
tion    245 

XII.    Education  by  Means  of  Money 263 

XIII.  Education  of   the  Temper 285 

XIV.  Culture  by  Reading  and  Books 807 

XV.    The  Education   of  Courage .']27 

XVI.   On    Finishing    Everything  ;     or,    The    Two 

Extra    Pennies 345 

XVII.    Education  of  the  Will 363 

XVIII.    Education  by  Means  of  Amusement  ....  381 

XIX.    Education  of  Hope 399 

XX.    Every  Man  his  Proper  Gift 415 

XXI.    Let  us  do  what  we  can 433 


INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER 


SELF-CULTURE. 


INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER. 

r 1 1 ;•:  Beginnings  of  Culture,  in  Childhood.  —  Natural  anti 
Artificial  Methods  in  the  Education  of  Children. 

EDUCATION  is  made  up  of  three  grand  divis- 
ions. First,  INSTRUCTION,  or  knowledge  com- 
municated to  the  intellect;  second,  TRAINING,  or 
exorcist;  of  the  faculties;  third,  DEVELOPMENT,  or 
education  in  its  special  meaning,  —  the  unfolding  of 
the  whole  nature  of  man.  These  three  constitute 
Education  in  its  largest  sense. 

Of  all  this  Education,  the  school  and  college  con- 
tributes a  part,  but  a  much  larger  part  comes  from 
other  sources.  Nature  educates,  life  educates,  society 
educates.  Outward  circumstances,  inward  experi- 
ences, and  social  influences,  make  up  a  large  part  of 
human  culture.  But  at  present,  let  us  see  what 
schools  o>..'ht  to  do,  what  they  actually  do,  and  what 
they  might  do. 

A  boy  begins  to  go  to  school,  say  at  seven  years 
of  age;  and  he  leaves  college,  say  at  twenty-one 
years.     He  has  then  spent  fourteen  years  in  study: 


4  SELF-CULTURE. 

and  the  object  of  nearly  all  his  study  has  been  to 
store  his  mind  with  knowledge.  What,  then,  does 
he  know  ? 

After  fourteen  years'  study  he  ought  to  know  a 
good  deal.  First,  to  speak,  read,  and  write  his  own 
language  well,  and  to  be  acquainted  with  its  princi- 
pal authors.  Secondly,  as  so  much  time  is  given  to 
Latin  and  Greek,  he  ought  to  be  able  to  read  easily 
a  Latin  or  Greek  work,  at  sight.  Xext,  he  should 
know  the  main  facts  of  Geography  and  Universal 
History,  and  the  chief  dates  of  political  events, — 
also  such  facts  in  the  history  of  Greece,  Rome, 
France,  Italy,  England,  Spain,  Germany,  and  the 
United  States.  He  should  read  easily  two  or  three 
modern  languages.  Then,  in  science,  he  should  know 
the  present  condition  of  Geology,  Chemistry,  Nat- 
ural Philosophy,  Astronomy,  Botany.  He  should 
understand  the  condition  and  progress  of  the  useful 
arts  and  the  tine  arts,  and  some  elements  of  The- 
ology, Medicine,  and  Law.  He  ought  to  know 
something  of  Social  Science,  including  Politics  and 
Political  Economy.  Finally,  he  ought  to  know 
something  about  his  own  body  and  soul,  his  fac- 
ulties and  powers,  the  laws  of  thought  and  of 
physical  culture.  In  fourteen  years  ought  there 
not  to  be  learned  at  least  as  much  as  this  ? 

Xow,  what  is  the  fact  in  the  majority  of  cases  ? 
Usually  that  when  he  leaves  college,  he  knows 
enough  Latin  to  translate  Virgil  and  Cicero  with- 
out  a   dictionary;    enough   Greek   to   translate   the 


INTRO  D  UC  TOR  \ '.  5 

Iliad  with  one.  He  has  a  smattering  of  French 
and  possibly  of  one  or  two  modern  languages.  He 
is  pretty  well  acquainted  with  Algebra  and  Geom- 
etry, —  and  he  has  nearly  forgotten  what  he  learned 
in  school  of  Geography  and  History. 

Does  not  this  show  that  our  methods  of  education, 
as  yet,  have  not  reached  the  point  at  which  they 
aim  ?  They  do  not  constitute  an  art.  For  what  is 
an  art  ?  An  art  is  a  method,  based  on  science,  of 
doing  anything  thoroughly  and  effectually.  If  the 
thing  to  be  done  is  a  useful  thing,  it  is  a  useful  art ; 
if  a  beautiful  thing,  it  is  a  fine  art.  For  example, 
the  making  of  a  shoe  is  an  art.  It  does  not  come  by 
nature  or  inspiration  ;  it  has  to  be  taught ;  but  any 
one  can  learn  to  do  it,  so  that  with  moderate  capa- 
city and  attention,  he  is  sure  to  be  able  to  make  a 
real  shoe,  when  he  has  learned  the  art.  Xow 
education  will  become  an  art  when  a  person  of 
average  capacity  shall  be  able  to  teach  all  scholars 
of  average  capacity,  so  that  at  the  end  of  their 
course  they  shall  really  know  the  thing  taught  in 
that  course.  At  present,  such  is  not  the  case.  If 
the  teacher  is  a  man  of  genius,  an  enthusiast  capa- 
ble of  inspiring  enthusiasm ;  and  if  the  scholar  has 
the  power  of  being  quickened  into  a  like  enthusi- 
asm, then  the  scholar  really  learns,  but  not  other- 
wise. Agassiz  could  inspire  such  an  interest  in 
Gasteropods  and  Echinoderms  that  a  large  part  of  his 
class  should  graduate  with  an  intimate  personal 
knowledge  of  those  little  people.     That  is  the  result 


6  SELF-CULTURE. 

of  genius,  however,  not  of  art.  What  we  need  is 
to  have  the  art  of  education  so  perfected,  that  a 
teacher  of  average  intelligence  shall  be  able  to  in- 
spire a  similar  ardor  in  each  study.  How  can  this 
be  done  ?  I  answer,  by  following  the  method  of 
nature  in  teaching. 

How  does  Mother  Nature  teach  ?  She  takes  on 
herself  the  most  difficult  part  of  all  the  course,  and 
she  does  her  work  thoroughly.  Hers  is  the  real 
Primary  School.  She  says,  "  I  will  take  the  little 
child  who  knows  nothing,  and  1  will  teach  him  to 
know  the  use  of  his  own  body,  the  nature  of  the 
world  about  him,  and  the  articulate  language  of 
his  country."  And  she  does  it.  The  little  thing 
learns  to  see,  hear,  touch,  taste,  walk ;  to  jump,  run, 
climb,  hold  objects,  know  what  is  hard  and  soft, 
heavy  and  light,  round  and  square ;  to  know  wood, 
stone,  earth,  water,  air;  to  distinguish  between 
things  near  and  distant,  sounds  remote  and  close  by. 
Finally,  she  teaches  him  to  speak  a  language ;  he 
having  no  other  language  to  learn  it  by.  "When  I 
learn  Latin,  I  do  it  by  finding  the  equivalent  in  Latin 
of  some  English  word  which  I  already  know.  But 
the  little  child  learning  his  own  language  has  no 
words  to  learn  by.  It  is  one  of  the  most  marvellous 
things  ;  if  it  were  not  so  common  we  should  see  it; 
a  little  child  learning  to  speak.  The  difficulties  be 
surmounts  are  far  greater  than  we  should  encounter 
in  learning  Chinese  or  Sanskrit.  And,  observe,  he 
dors  not  acquire  a  smattering  of  language,  but  lie 


INTRODUCTORY.  , 

learns  it  thoroughly,  so  as  to  be  able  to  use  it  for  all 
practical  purposes. 

Now,  how  does  the  dear  mother  do  all  this  ? 
What  is  her  method  ? 

First,  —  She  mixes  nine  parts  of  pleasure  and 
one  of  pain,  nine  of  hope  and  one  of  fear,  in  her 
system.  We  do  just  about  the  opposite,  in  ours. 
"We  imagine  the  child  is  not  studying  if  it  is  having 
a  good  time.  In  Nature's  school  it  is  only  studying 
ivhen  it  is  happy,  it  only  works  when  it  is  at  play. 
►See  the  little  child  at  play,  or  perhaps  at  what  its 
mother  calls  mischief,  —  it  is  trying  to  make  its  shoe 
swim  in  a  basin  of  water.  Stop,  mamma  !  don't 
scold,  it  is  learning  a  lesson  in  Hydrostatics.  What ! 
it  has  broken  the  window  with  its  ball,  and  stands 
absorbed  at  that  mystery  of  broken  glass  \  Well, 
it  was  becoming  acquainted  with  the  nature  of  an 
elastic  body,  and  by  accident  has  learned  what  is 
cohesive  and  what  frangible.  It  is  digging  in  the 
mud  ;  it  is  paddling  in  the  water  ;  it  is  shovelling 
sand.  You  call  it  play,  but  you  never  worked  half 
as  hard  in  what  you  call  your  study ;  that  is,  you 
never  put  your  faculties  into  anything  with  such 
intensity  and  concentration  as  that  child  is  now 
doing. 

He  is  learning  thoroughly  the  qualities  and  rela- 
tions of  things  ;  he  is  learning  to  know  surface  and 
substance,  to  distinguish  between  aeriform,  fluid, 
and  solid;  to  know  what  is  ductile,  what  malleable, 
what  flexible  ;  he  is  becoming  acquainted  with  lat- 


8  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

era!  strength,  cohesive  force,  specific  gravity  ;  he  is 
studying  statics  and  dynamics ;  the  law  of  acceler- 
ating forces  ;  the  power  of  the  lever,  the  inclined 
plane,  the  wheel  and  axle  ;  he  is  learning  equi- 
librium,  rotation,  angular  motion,  and  the  like.  To 
be  sure,  he  does  not  learn  all  these  fine  words ;  but 
lie  learns  the  tilings  meant  by  them.  He  learns  the 
things  with  delight  in  Nature's  school;  by  and  by, 
in  ours,  he  shall  learn  their  names  with  disgust  and 
difficulty.' 

Nature  gives  delight  in  the  use  of  all  our  facul- 
ties ;  she  makes  also  an  additional  pleasure  to  attend 
every  ACCOMPLISHMENT.  When  the  child  has  learned 
to  break  a  stick,  he  will  sit  still  an  hour  breaking 
stick  after  stick.  By  this  ingenious  contrivance 
she  teaches  him  language.  She  also  begins  with  the 
easiest  word,  and  the  word  nearest  at  hand,  and  in 
this  tremendous  task  of  teaching  him  his  first  word, 


1  Let  two  little  boys  weigh  each  other  on  a  platform  scale. 
Then  when  they  balance  each  other  on  their  board  see-saw,  let 
them  see  (and  measure  for  themselves)  that  the  lighter  one  is 
farther  from  the  fence-rail  on  which  their  hoard  is  placed,  in  the 
same  proportion  as  the  heavier  boy  outweighs  the  lighter  one. 
They  will  then  have  learned  the  grand  principle  of  the  lever. 
Then  let  them  measure'  and  see  that  the  light  one  see-saws  farther 
than  the  heavy  one.  in  the  same  proportion  ;  and  they  will  have 
acquired  the  principle  of  virtual  velocities.  Explain  to  them  that 
equality  of  moments  means  nothing  more  than  that  when  they  seat 
themselves  at  their  measured  distances  on  their  see-saw,  they  balance 
each  other.  Let  them  see  that  the  weight  of  the  heavy  boy,  when 
multiplied  by  his  distance  in  feet  from  the  fence-rail,  amounts  to 
just  as  much  as  the  weight  of  the  light  one  when   multiplied   by 


IXTRODUCTORY. 


she  brings  another  powerful  agency  to  bear,  — 
namely,  LOVE.  When  the  infant  learns  to  say  his 
first  word,  and  can  actually  articulate,  "  Pupa,  Mam- 
ma" there  is  very  good  reason  why  all  the  neigh- 
bors shall  be  called  in  (as  they  usually  are)  to  hear 
him  say  it.  For  if  he  shall  live  to  be  a  Webster  or 
a  Chatham,  and  speak  with  the  tongue  of  men  and 
angels,  he  will  never  surmount  a  greater  obstacle, 
or  take  a  longer  step,  or  acquire  a  more  wonderful 
accomplishment.  Nature  brings  three  great  forces  to 
bear  on  him  in  order  to  teach  him  to  say  "  Mamma," 
—  the  pleasure  of  exercising  a  faculty  ;  the  pleasure 
of  accomplishment,  that  is,  of  repeating  over  and  over 
what  we  have  learned  to  do  once  ;  and,  lastly,  the 
exquisite  delight  of  the  mother,  overflowing  with 
ecstatic  love  for  her  darling  child,  by  which  she 
magnetizes  his  little  heart,  and  attracts  him  to  do 
what  gives  him  and  her  such  joy.     Her  eyes  shower 


his  distance.  Explain  to  them  that  each  of  the  amounts  is  in 
footpounds.  Tell  them  that  the  lightest  one,  because  he  see-saws 
so  much  faster  than  the  other,  will  hump  against  the  ground  just 
as  hard  as  the  heavy  one  ;  and  that  this  means  that  their  momen- 
tums  arc  equal.  The  hoys  may  then  go  in  to  dinner,  and  probably 
puzzle  their  big  lout  of  a  brother  who  has  just  passed  through 
college  with  high  honors.  They  will  not  forget  what  they  have 
learned  ;  for  they  learned  it  as  play,  without  any  ear-pulling, 
spanking,  or  keeping  in.  Let  their  bats  and  balls,  their  marbles, 
their  swings,  kc,  once  become  their  philosophical  apparatus,  and 
children  may  he  taught  (null'/  taught)  many  of  the  most  impor- 
tant principles  of  engineering  before  they  can  read  or  write. — 
From  Tranticines  "Civil  Engineers'  roekit-lUmk,"  — a  hook 
which  has  been  called  the  best  practical  manual  for  engineers. 


10  SELF-CULTURE. 

affection  into  his,  while  she  covers  him  with  kisses. 
Dame  Xature  looks  on,  and  says,  "  All  right,  —  it 
will  go  now." 

The  child's  eyes  plainly  say  "I  have  done  a  big 
thing."  And  he  has.  After  "  Mamma  "  and  "Pa- 
pa'' come  other  nouns  of  one  syllable,  —  for  "Papa" 
and  "Mamma "are  monosyllables  repeated,  —  usu- 
ally proper  nouns.  The  people  around  the  infant 
are  the  first  objects  of  his  interest,  because  they  are 
actively  interested  in  him.  I  have  lately  been 
watching  a  child  learning  to  talk,  and  I  observed 
that  it  gave  monosyllabic  names  to  each  of  the  five 
or  six  persons  around  it.  One  was  named  "  Bah," 
another  "  Gah,"  a  third  "  Nee,"  a  fourth  "  Ko,"  a 
fifth  "  Nee-nee."  A  cracker  for  eating  was  "  Ka," 
and  so  on.  Here  we  see  the  beginnings  of  lan- 
guage, and  discover  that  the  Chinese  language  is 
probably  a  primitive  tongue  whose  development  was 
arrested  while  in  the  monosyllabic  stage. 

After  the  proper  nouns  come  sounds  which  re- 
semble "milk,"  and  "  water,"  and  "sugar,"  and  other 
substantive's,  mostly  relating  to  matters  of  diet,  with 
winch  the  child  has  made  himself  acquainted. 
Sentences  follow.  "1  want"  this.  "(live  me" 
that;  only,  as  nouns  take  the  lead  of  pronouns  in 
this  method, —  it  is  usually  "Johnny  v:anU"  this, 
"  Give  Jultnny"  that.  Desire  being  the  lever  mostly 
used  by  Xature,  the  verbs  significant  of  desire  will 
arrive  on  the  stage  very  early.  Observe,  too,  the 
power  of  repetition  in  this  system.     The  words  first 


INTRO  D  UC  TOR  V.  11 

learned  are  never  forgotten,  for  they  are  the  words 
■which  are  always  in  use,  and  so  have  to  be  repeated 
every  day.  Also  notice  that  Nature  in  teaching 
grammar  gives  the  rule  first,  and  says  nothing  at 
all  about  exceptions  till  some  time  after.  In  our 
schools,  we  cram  the  grammars  with  every  possible 
exception,  qualification,  collateral  remark,  and  limi- 
tation, as  though  we  were  educating  a  Scaliger,  and 
not  a  little  Irish  boy.  Nature  lets  the  infant  form 
all  his  verbs  regularly  at  first.  He  says,  "  I  drinked 
the  water."  "  I  feeded  the  dog."  "  1  runned  out  of 
doors."  By  and  by,  seeing  that  other  people  say 
"drank,"  he  says  "drank."  So  Nature  teaches  us 
grammar,  —  and  most  of  the  grammar  we  know  we 
learn  in  this  way. 

Observe  also  that  Nature  trains  while  she  teaches, 
she  disciplines  the  powers  while  she  imparts  infor- 
mation to  the  intellect.  We  are  too  analytic  ;  we 
teach  only  the  memory,  —  she  teaches  all  the  pri- 
mary faculties  at  the  same  time.  Her  synthetic 
method  has  great  advantages  over  our  analytic  one. 
It  is  more  vital,  lively,  interesting.  While  the 
child  is  learning  the  properties  of  bodies,  he  is  at 
the  same  time  training  his  own  faculties.  He  is 
learning  to  measure  ;  to  weigh ;  and  to  distinguish 
forms,  colors,  and  sizes.  Moreover,  he  comes  ever- 
more into  contact  with  a  living  and  real  world  of 
substance,  —  not  a  dead  world  of  words.  Happy 
child !  the  roof  of  whose  schoolroom  is  the  blue 
heaven  with  its  drifting  clouds,  and  mellow  tints  of 


1 2  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

sunrise,  and  glories  of  evening,  —  whose  bench  is 
the  soft  grass,  the  gray  stone,  the  limb  of  the  apple- 
tree, — -whose  books  are  all  illustrated  with  moving, 
living  forms,  —  waving  trees,  dewy  leaves,  wild- 
flowers,  all  varieties  of  birds,  and  insects,  and 
fishes,  and  animals, —  how  fast  he  learns,  —  finding 
"tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks, 
sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  everything." 

'•'  Well,"  but  you  may  say,  "  what  are  we  going  to 
do  about  it  ?  Shall  we  shut  up  our  schools,  and 
send  the  children  out  into  the  fields  to  run  about  at 
random  ? "  Xo  !  but  patiently  and  reverently  study 
the  methods  of  Xature,  and  copy  her  principles  in- 
stead of  going  in  direct  opposition  to  them.  Do  not 
drive  the  children  by  force,  or  fear ;  lead  them  by 
the  attraction  of  joy.  Let  Mother  Xature  come  into 
your  school  and  be  your  assistant,  —  she  is  not  too 
proud  to  be  so.  She  will  help  you  if  you  will  let 
her. 

"  Ah  !  "  but  you  say,  "  children  must  learn  appli- 
cation, must  learn  to  work,  —  they  cannot  always 
find  study  pleasant  ;  it  must  be  unpleasant  often, 
and  so  it  is  a  discipline."' 

This  is  the  old  mistake  of  thinking  that  hard 
work  must  necessarily  be  unpleasant  work.  Do 
children  ever  work  as  hard  at  school  as  they  do  at 
play  ? 

Is  there  ever  more  mental  application  displayed 
in  any  study  than  there  is  in  a  game  of  chess  ?  Is 
there  more  physical  energy  put  forth  in  any  kind  of 


INTRODUCTORY.  13 

hard  day-labor  than  there  is  in  a  game  of  football, 
or  in  a  boat-race  ? 

I  do  not  propose  that  boys  and  girls  should  spend 
their  time  in  play.  But  I  propose  to  use  the  prin- 
ciple involved  in  play  in  acquiring  knowledge. 
"What  are  the  objections  usually  made  to  games  of 
chance,  as  cards,  for  example  ;  or  such  games  of 
skill  as  billiards  ?  They  are  two  :  first,  that  there 
is  no  profitable  result  of  the  time  and  effort ;  and, 
second,  that  there  is  no  useful  discipline  of  any 
faculty.  Let  us  suppose  something  as  interesting, 
which  disci] dines  the  faculties,  and  also  leaves  the 
mind  possessed  of  some  valuable  knowledge,  and 
would  you  object  to  it  because  it  was  interesting 
and  not  dull  ?  I  should  say  you  were  rather  dull 
yourself  if  you  did.  Let  us  suppose,  for  example, 
there  were  a  Chronological  game  of  cards  (as  there 
might  easily  be)  as  interesting  as  Whist  or  Piquet; 
by  which  the  memory  should  be  so  disciplined  as  to 
retain  easily  some  five  hundred  of  the  more  impor- 
tant historic  dates,  and  to  have  them  fixed  forever 
in  the  mind  ?  Or  suppose  a  Geographical  game  of 
cards,  by  which  in  like  manner  there  should  be  fixed 
in  the  memory  for  life  the  names  and  localities  of 
the  principal  cities,  rivers,  mountains ;  and  their 
latitude  and  longitude.  Would  you  object  to  it 
because  it  was  a  game,  and  because  the  children 
loved  to  play  it,  and  would  play  it  among  them- 
selves for  amusement  ?  Would  you  think  it  better 
for  them  to  sit  and  loll  at  their   desks   hour  after 


14  SELF-  CUL  TUKE. 

hour,  vacantly  staring  at  their  books,  so  as  to  learn 
just  enough  of  chronology  and  geography  to  pass  a 
decent  examination,  and  then  forget  it  again  ? * 

The  principle  I  contend  for  is  sometimes  intro- 
duced into  schools,  hut  only  occasionally,  and  as 
though  it  ought  not  to  be  often  permitted.  The 
whole  school  divides  into  two  opposing  sides,  and 
plays  a  game  of  spelling,  perhaps,  —  to  see  which 
side  shall  beat.  The  children  become  excited  and 
interested,  and  fix  their  whole  attention  on  each 
word,  and  learn  more,  I  venture  to  say,  of  spelling, 
in  that  fifteen  minutes'  game,  than  in  many  long 
hours  of  half-stupefied  inattention  to  their  spelling- 
book.  In  like  manner  I  have  seen  Colburn's  First 
Lessons  in  Arithmetic  made  a  play,  in  which  the 
children  who  answered  right  all  went  up,  and  those 
who  answered  wrong  all  went  down,  —  and  so,  in 
an  hour's  recitation,  a  boy  might  get  from  the  foot 
to  the  head  and  back  again  once  or  twice.  What 
animation,  what  interest,  there  was  in  this  exercise! 
If  study  means  the  full  tension  of  the  intellect, 
applied  to  some  mental  problem  and  concentrated 
upon  it  with  the  whole  force  of  the  will,  then  I  say, 
I  never  saw  harder  study  than  that.  But  it  was  all 
wiong,  I  suppose,  because  it  was  interesting  ;  be- 
cause it  was  like  a  play.  In  short,  it  was  a  natural 
mode  of  study,  and  so  not  to  be  tolerated.     Besides, 

1  The  principle  of  arranging  methods  of  study  on  the  plan  of 
games  was  fully  developed  by  Locke,  in  his  Essay  on  Education, 
and  excited  at  the  time  much  interest  and  discussion. 


IN  TRODUC  TOR  Y.  1 5 

the  dreadful  principle  of  emulation  was  encouraged 
by  it. 

I  am  free  to  confess  myself  such  a  heretic  to 
modern  notions,  as  to  believe  fully  in  emulation  as 
applied  in  teaching.  We  do  apply  it,  we  can't  help 
applying  it,  —  the  question  only  is  how?  The 
difference  in  my  opinion  between  the  use  and  abuse 
of  this  faculty  is  in  making  the  prize  of  excellence 
merely  transient,  aud  not  permanent.  Let  the  re- 
ward of  excellence  be  the  natural  reward,  the  mo- 
mentary sense  and  recognition  that  one  has  excelled. 
Do  not  offer  prizes,  which  are  to  remain,  and  to  feed 
vanity.  Do  not  have  marks  for  every  exercise,  to  be 
added  up  each  day,  and  kept  from  month  to  month, 
to  determine  who  is  to  have  the  highest  rank  at  the 
end  of  the  year.  Such  things  make  children  un- 
naturally and  precociously  attentive  to  their  own 
interests,  —  make  them  selfish  and  mercenary.  It 
is  not  a  generous  emulation,  a  desire  of  excellence, 
—  hut  it  is  the  wish  for  a  prize,  a  high  rank,  or  the 
praise  of  the  outside  visitors;  all  that,  I  think  bad. 

But  let  the  reward  of  excellence  be  momentary, 
as  when  boys  choose  sides,  and  play  football  or  base, 
and  when  they  exert  themselves  for  victory,  as  if 
the  success  of  their  life  depended  on  it.  But  the 
game  once  over,  there  is  an  end.  They  will  have 
forgotten,  to-morrow,  which  side  won.  There  are 
no  ranklings  left  in  the  bosoms  of  those  who  are  de- 
feated, —  no  undue  self-satisfaction  in  those  who 
have  won.     So,  in  my  opinion,  the  transient   excite- 


1 b'  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

ment  and  stimulus  in  the  old  plan  of  going  up  and 
down  in  recitation  was  good,  provided  the  results  of 
each  day's  success  or  failure  ended  with  the  day. 
But  I  utterly  abhor  the  system  followed  in  some 
colleges,  where  everything  goes  to  rank,  —  where 
recitations,  behavior,  presence  at  prayers,  all  are 
laid  up  for  the  final  decision  at  the  end  of  four 
years,  and  so  some  of  the  gentle  youth  are  made 
unnaturally  calculating,  cautious,  prudent,  and  are 
devoured  by  an  envious  and  grasping  ambition,— 
and  others  are  equally  made  reckless  and  discour- 
aged. 

How  good  it  is  when  the  teacher  gives  lessons  in 
Botany  or  Geology  in  the  open  air,  — ■  taking  a  walk 
with  his  class  ;  guiding  their  minds,  helping  them  to 
look,  teaching  them  how  to  observe  Nature,  and  giv- 
ing them  that  vital  interest  which  comes  from  con- 
tact with  things  themselves  instead  of  with  their 
names  in  books.  The  child  who  lias  found  a  beau- 
tiful orchid,  or  a  group  of  harebells,  or  a  bank  by  the 
roadside  where  the  sweet  Linnoea  hangs  its  twin 
bells,  never  forgets  them.  The  class  which  has  seen 
Jupiter  and  his  moons  through  the  telescope,  or 
which  has  studied  out  the  constellations  by  its 
teacher's  side  during  a  summer's  evening,  has  ac- 
quired a  taste  for  knowledge  which  the  dead  letters 
in  books  can  never  give.  There  is  something  in 
contact  with  Xature  herself  which  awakens  a  strange 
joy  in  the  soul.  The  touch  of  water,  the  sight  of  a 
tree  waving  its  multitude  of  branches  in  the  sum- 


IX  TROD  UC  TOR  Y.  1  \ 

mer  air,  the  gray  old  rock  covered  with  lichens  and 
mosses,  —  these  seem  to  carry  knowledge  into  the 
mind,  as  books  alone  never  can.  So  that  I  sympa- 
thize a  good  deal  with  the  student  in  Goethe's  Faust, 
who  says,  after  thanking  his  instructor  for  his  teach- 
ing, — 

"And  yet,  if  I  the  truth  might  say, 
I  would  I  were  again  away. 
Walls  like  these,  and  halls  like  these, 
Will,  I  fear,  in  no  wise  please,  — 
The  narrow  gloom  of  this  low  room, 
Where  nothing  green  is  ever  seen, 
'Mong  benches,  books,  my  heart  is  sinking, 
And  my  faded  senses  shrinking. 
I  mourn  the  hour  that  I  came  hither, 
Ear,  and  eye,  and  heart  will  die, — 
Thought,  and  the  power  of  thought,  will  wither." 

Our  ancestors  would  sometimes  get  an  Indian, 
and  try  to  civilize  him  by  sending  him  to  college. 
He  would  study  his  Greek  grammar  and  Latin  gram- 
mar for  a  while,  very  faithfully  ;  but  at  last  an  irre- 
pressible yearning  for  the  woods  would  come  over 
him,  and  he  would  disappear, — leaving  "Bonus, 
a-um,"  for  the  old  wild  life  of  the  forest.  Who 
could  blame  him,  or  wonder  ? 

There  is,  however,  a  serious  objection  to  all  this, 
which  ought  to  lie  met,  and  I  shall  state  it  as  fairly 
and  strongly  as  I  can. 

"  You  propose  to  us,"  so  says  my  opponent,  "  to 
make  all  study  agreeable,  to  make  education  as  in- 
teresting to  children  as  play.     You  cannot  do   so, 


18  SELF-CULTURE. 

and  you  ought  not  to  do  so.  Part  of  education  is 
the  discipline  of  self-denial,  —  it  is  denial  of  present 
pleasure  for  future  good,  —  it  is  doing  disagreeable 
things  cheerfully,  —  it  is  doing  not  only  hard  work, 
but  unpleasant  work.  It  would  be  a  bad  thing  to 
make  all  children's  work  pleasant  :  for  there  are  a 
great  many  unpleasant  labors  before  them  in  the 
world  for  which  they  ought  to  be  prepared;  and  for 
which  they  will  not  be  prepared  if  they  are  taught 
in  youth  on  the  principle  that  all  study  must  be  like 
play."  That  is  the  objection  ;  stated  as  strongly  as 
I  know  how  to  state  it. 

I  reply,  however,  that  if  there  is  a  great  deal  to 
be  done  by  children  which  is  unpleasant,  I  do  not 
expect  to  make  that  agreeable.  Not  that  which 
cannot  be  made  interesting,  but  that  which  can,  I 
try  to  make  so.  If  you  will  admit  that  all  the  study 
which  can  be  turned  into  pleasure  shall  be,  I  will 
be  satisfied;  and  I  will  leave,  for  your  comfort,  all 
which  must  be  disagreeable.  If,  however,  you  think 
that  some  good  discipline  comes  to  a  child  by  hav- 
ing that  study  made  stupid  and  hateful,  which 
might  be  made  attractive  and  pleasant,  I  differ  from 
you.  I  admit  that  there  will  be  always  some  work- 
to  be  done,  which  will  be  harsh,  —  but  I  think  that 
will  suffice.  If  you  think  that  the  proper  prepara- 
tion for  a  hard,  laborious  life,  a  life  spent  in  dis- 
agreeable toil,  is  a  youth  and  childhood  also  spent  in 
harsh  disagreeable  toil,  I  differ  from  you  as  widely 
as  heaven  is  distant   from  earth.      God,  also,  differs 


INTKODL  'CTOR  V.  1 9 

from  you,  I  am  inclined  to  think ;  else  why  does  He 
make  childhood  a  season  of  pleasure,  so  far  as  we 
do  not  interfere  to  make  it  pain  (  Why  does  God 
make  happiness  so  native  to  a  child's  heart,  and 
give  it  such  joy  in  everything?  All  young  things 
are  happy.  They  dance,  they  sing,  they  crow,  they 
skip,  they  play.  Give  a  child  aheap  of  sand  to  dig, 
a  few  sticks  to  arrange,  a  piece  of  paper  and  a  pair 
of  scissors  to  cut  it  with,  —  give  him  a  piece  of 
string  to  make  a  whip  with,  or  to  play  that  he  is 
driving  a  horse,  when  he  fastens  his  string  to  the  leg 
of  a  chair,  —  and  he  is  happy.  If  God  thinks  grief 
the  best  preparation  for  grief,  why  did  He  not  make 
little  children  unhappy  to  begin  with  ?  We  can,  if 
we  try  hard,  I  know,  make  them  unhappy.  We 
can  collect  them  into  a  close  room,  and  make  them 
sit  on  a  hard  bench,  and  keep  perfectly  still  the 
limbs  which  Nature  has  filled  full  of  electricity,  that 
they  might  lie  moving  all  the  time,  —  and  scold  them 
when  they  move,  —  and  we  can,  by  hard  effort,  keep 
them  in  rather  an  uncomfortable  state.  But  relax 
that  effort ;  just  say,  "  You  may  go  out,  children,  into 
the  yard!''  and  the  whole  tide  of  excluded  and  re- 
pressed pleasure  rushes  back  again.  You  need  not 
give  them  any  playthings,  or  take  the  least  pains 
about  their  being  happy.  —  Nature  will  attend  to 
that.  See  the  little  things  scramble  downstairs  ; 
hear  their  joyous  outbursting  glee,  —  see  them  run- 
ning round  and  round,  and  laughing,  and  bring  as 
merry,  as  if  to  them  there  were  no  such  thing  as  sin 


20  SELF-CULTURE. 

or  sorrow  in  the  world,  —  as  indeed  there  is  not. 
For,  in  my  opinion,  that  deep  sense  of  guilt  which 
we  call  sin,  and  that  permanent  weight  of  gloom 
which  we  call  sorrow,  do  not  come  naturally  to 
childhood.  Children  do  wrong,  and  repent  of  it,  — 
they  suffer  sharp  pangs  of  disappointment,  and  the 
like ;  but  these  are  transient,  and  meant  to  be  so. 
Six  and  sorrow,  the  dark  background  of  life,  which 
tinge  with  permanent  sadness  our  elder  hearts,  do 
not  belong  to  childhood. 

Those  who  oppose  this  doctrine  have  their  quar- 
rel, not  with  us,  but  with  the  Creator.  He  does  not 
seem  to  think  that  the  proper  outfit  for  a  life  of 
pain  is  pain,  —  He  has  thought  joy  the  best  prepa- 
ration for  it.  He  does  not  think  that  the  best  way 
to  prepare  for  a  journey  into  the  wilderness,  where 
food  and  water  are  likely  to  be  wanting,  is  to  empty 
our  knapsacks  and  canteens.  Xo  !  but  to  fill  them. 
A  joyful  youth  is  the  best  preparation  for  an  earnest 
manhood.  A  youth  of  suffering  and  privation  pre- 
pare for  discouragement  and  depression  afterward. 

It  used  to  be  thought  that  heat  was  a  bad  prepa- 
ration for  encountering  cold.  How  often,  when  a 
boy,  was  I  ordered  not  to  go  into  the  water  when  I 
was  hot ;  but  to  wait  till  I  was  cool.  But  now  we 
know  that  this  is  all  a  mistake.  The  hotter  the  body 
is,  the  better  is  it  able  to  resist  cold.  The  Russians 
go  from  a  hot  bath  into  one  icy  cold.  The  Indians 
used  to  take  a  vapor-bath  sitting  over  some  hot 
stones   on    which    water    was    sprinkled,    and   then 


J N  TROD  UC  TOR  Y.  21 

jumped  into  the  cold  river.  Any  one  who  doubts 
the  wisdom  of  this  may  easily  satisfy  himself  by 
going  directly  from  a  very  hot  bath  into  a  very  cold 
one.  lie  will  find  that  he  scarcely  feels  the  cold  at 
all.  In  the  same  way  people  coming  from  the 
Southern  States  to  Xew  England  do  not  feel  the 
first  or  second  winter  as  much  as  we  do.  In 
the  Piussian  Campaign  the  Prussian  soldiers  suffered 
more  than  the  French  from  cold.  The  best  prepa- 
ration therefore  for  encountering  cold  is  to  be  hot. 
The  best  preparation  to  meet  famine  is  to  be  well 
fed.  And  the  best  preparation  for  a  life  of  hard 
work,  of  trial,  and  difficulty,  is  to  have  a  happy 
childhood  and  youth  to  look  back  to.  It  keeps  up 
our  faith  in  the  goodness  of  God,  it  prevents  us 
from  being  too  much  discouraged.  "We  know  that 
there  is  some  real  happiness  in  life ;  for  we  have  ex- 
perienced it  ourselves.  The  memory  of  a  sunny, 
free,  happy  childhood  goes  with  us  all  our  way,  — 
the  memory  of  the  good  old  grandparents  who  used 
to  pet  us  and  spoil  us,  —  the  memory  of  the  ardent 
friendships  of  childhood  ;  of  the  beauty  and  bounty 
of  nature ;  the  innocent  pleasure  furnished  by 
earth  and  water ;  by  bird,  and  insect,  and  flower, 
and  fruit,  —  all  these  leave  their  fragrance  with  us 
during  life,  and  keep  up  our  faith  that  love  and  hap- 
piness are  the  rule,  sorrow  and  selfishness  the  excep- 
tion. 

The  discipline  of  self-denial  is  good,  both  for  old 
and  young.     All  must  learn  self-denial,  —  it  is  one 


22  SELF-CULTURE. 

of  the  first  and  last  lessons  of  life.  But  no  one 
practises  self-denial  without  a  motive.  The  three 
principal  motives  for  self-denial  are  the  fear  of  pain, 
the  hope  of  pleasure,  and  the  sense  of  duty.  In 
the  discipline  of  Nature,  Pain  is  a  sentinel  standing 
on  the  outside  of  the  camp  to  define  certain  limits, 
which  must  not  be  passed  ->ver.  But  there  is  a  vast 
deal  more  of  self-denial  daily  practised  from  hope 
than  there  is  from  fear.  The  great  majority  of  man- 
kind deny  the  love  of  ease  and  of  pleasure  ;  they 
labor  and  abstain,  in  order  to  acquire  wealth,  fame, 
power,  or  knowledge.  Hardly  anywhere,  except  in 
some  very  poor  schools,  and  with  slaves,  is  fear  the 
chief  motive  for  self-denial. 

Xo  doubt  children  and  men  must  also  learn 
and  practise  self-denial  from  a  sense  of  duty.  We 
must  do  many  things  not  very  interesting  in  them- 
selves, because  we  ought  to  do  them  ;  — abstain  from 
other  practices,  which  are  pleasant,  because  we  ought 
not  to  do  them.  The  duty  may  not  always  be  agree- 
able. But  to  do  it,  is  agreeable.  And  when  the 
duty  itself  can  be  made  agreeable,  is  it  not  desira- 
ble to  do  so  ?  is  it  not  well  to  have  pleasant  as- 
sociations connected  with  our  duties  rather  than 
unpleasant  ones  ?  When  we  have  once  taught  our- 
selves and  others  that  a  duty  is  always  to  be  done, 
whether  agreeable  or  otherwise,  then  it  is  best  to 
surround  our  tasks  with  as  much  which  is  cheerful 
as  possible. 

This  doctrine  Wordsworth  teaches  in  that  marvel- 


I.XTR  OD I  'C  TOR  V.  23 

lous  ode,  the  most  sublime  poem  since  Milton,  in 
which  he  declares  that  faith  in  immortality  conies 
in  part  from  the  joy  which  God  gives  to  childhood. 
In  it  he  thanks  God 

"  for  those  first  affections, 
Those  shadowy  recollections. 
Which,  be  they  what  they  may, 
Are  yet  the  fountain  light  of  all  our  day. 
And  yet  a  master  light  of  all  our  seeing, 
Uphold  us,  cherish,  and  have  power  to  make 
Our  noisy  years  seem  moments  in  the  being 
Of  the  eternal  silence  ;  truths  that  wake 
To  perish  never." 

It  is  not  then  necessary  to  abridge  at  all  the  joys 
of  childhood.  Let  us  make  our  children  as  happy 
as  we  can.  They  will  always  have  enough  occasion 
for  discipline  and  self-denial,  —  do  not  doubt  it.  I 
have  known  schools  of  two  kinds.  One,  in  which 
FORCE  and  will  reigned  supreme;  in  which  scolding 
and  threatening,  harsh  words  and  blows,  were  the 
normal  incidents.  I  have  known  other  schools,  in 
which  love  and  reason  were  Queen  and  King;  in 
which  a  healthy  and  happy  atmosphere  was  breathed 
by  all  the  little  ones ;  and  a  sense  of  peace,  of  order, 
of  good-will,  was  taught  to  each  child.  Which  of  the 
schools  did  the  most  good  ?  Which  was  the  best 
preparation  for  time  and  eternity  ? 

Discipline  is  good,  but  discipline  does  not  mean 
suffering  or  pain.  I  have  seen  schools  in  which 
there  was  much  whipping,  but  very  little  discipline, 


24  SELF-CULTURE. 

—  while  in  others  there  was  no  whipping  at  all,  but 
much  discipline.  "Whipping  is  not  discipline,  —  force 
is  not  discipline.  I  venture  to  say  that,  out  of  the 
army,  there  is  no  such  strict  discipline  maintained 
anywhere  else  as  is  kept  up  in  the  games  of  children, 
—  as  in  football,  base,  cricket,  &c.  A  little  fellow 
whose  business  is  to  "catch  out"  had  much  rather 
miss  his  Latin  exercise  in  school  under  the  sternest 
master,  than  miss  being  in  his  place  to  catch  the 
ball.  Play  does  not  exclude  discipline,  but  usually 
includes  it.  What  admirable  organization  in  a  rame 
of  base  '.  How  perfectly  every  boy  keeps  to  his 
place  and  his  work  !  How  wide-awake  to  the  mat- 
ter in  hand  !  There  is  no  indolence  or  inattention 
here,  I  think. 

Xor  does  play  exclude  drudgery.  When  you  go 
home  to-day,  you  will  perhaps  find  your  boy,  hard 
at  work,  whittling  a  stick  into  shape  for  a  fishing- 
pole,  lie  has  been  at  it  for  an  hour  or  two,  and 
hard  work  it  has  been ;  but  he  has  persevered 
bravely  so  that  he  may  be  ready  to  go  fishing  to- 
morrow. How  hard  children  work  at  their  play,  or 
in  getting  ready  to  play.  So  you  see  that  if  we 
make  study  partake  of  the  interest  of  play,  by  any 
ingenious  arrangements,  we  shall  not  exclude  hard 
work,  nor  drudgery,  nor  discipline,  nor  self-denial. 
As  to  self-denial,  observe  the  young  men  of  a  boat- 
crew  at  Yah*,  or  Harvard,  in  training  for  a  match. 
They  are  studiously  temperate  or  abstinent  ;  they 
flee  all    college    excesses  :    thev  renounce   coffee,  to- 


IN  TROD  UC  TOR  Y.  2  5 

bacco,  wine,  spirits,  cake,  and  pastry ;  they  go  early 
to  bed  at  regular  hours  ;  and,  in  short,  lead  the  lives 
of  anchorites.  All  of  their  own  accord,  for  an  end, 
—  to  win  a  temporal  crown.  Make  study  as  inter- 
esting, make  knowledge  as  attractive,  and  you  will 
obtain  the  like  results. 

If,  now,  we  pass  from  Instruction  to  Training,  it 
is  surprising  how  few  of  the  faculties  have  hitherto 
received  any  discipline.  Verbal  memory  has  been 
cultivated;  the  power  of  calculation  also;  and  I 
have  seen  exercises  in  Grammar  Schools  in  addition, 
subtraction,  &c.,  where  a  whole  class  would  give  the 
answer  to  a  difficult  question  as  soon  as  the  teacher 
had  asked  it.  But  the  perceptive  organs,  the  powers 
which  observe  size,  length,  and  breadth,  those  which 
observe  weight,  color,  quantities,  &c,  have  been 
much  neglected.  Object-Lessons  will  correct  this  to 
a  great  extent.  It  is  difficult  to  say  how  far  the 
quickness  and  accuracy  of  these  faculties  may  be 
carried.  The  workers  in  Florentine  mosaic  can  dis- 
tinguish eight  thousand  varieties  of  red  in  their 
work.  I  have  seen  ladies  who  could  correct  by  their 
eye  a  mistake  made  by  a  salesman  in  measuring 
cloth.  He  would  measure  it,  and  say,  "It  is  just  a 
yard."  The  lady  would  say,  "  Please  measure  it 
again,  —  I  think  it  wants  half  an  inch,"  —  and  he 
would  find  it  so.1 


1  See,  below,  the  Lecture  on  the  Culture  of  the  Perceptive 
Omans. 


26  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

The  highest  object  of  Education  is  development ; 
drawing  out  and  unfolding  the  whole  nature,  phys- 
ical, intellectual,  moral,  and  spiritual.  All  things 
else  come  easily  when  the  soul  of  man  is  well  de- 
veloped. An  intelligent  mind  will  learn  everything 
easily,  judge  everything  correctly.  Develop  the  in- 
telligence, arouse  and  quicken  the  understanding,  0 
Teacher  !  and  you  have  done  the  main  work.  In 
like  manner,  awaken  the  moral  nature,  by  the  love  of 
what  is  noble,  generous,  great,  pure  ;  and  moral  con- 
duct follows  easily.  We  usually  think  it  a  hard 
thing  to  die,  —  requiring  the  preparation  of  a  life. 
But  how  easily  our  young  soldiers  died  in  the  Civil 
War,  —  how  peacefully,  tranquilly,  submissively.  It 
is  because  they  usually  went  to  the  war  with  a  gen- 
erous and  conscientious  motive.  They  went  as  a 
duty,  giving  themselves  to  their  country.  The  great 
crisis  and  peril  of  the  nation  aroused  everything 
noble  in  their  hearts  ;  and  they  experienced  a  devel- 
opment of  courage  and  self-devotion  far  above  what 
would  come  in  common  times.  Thus  they  learned 
fast,  in  those  great  hours,  the  true  lesson  of  life. 
They  learned  that  true  life  is  not  in  length  of  days, 
but  in  quality  of  being;  and  that  we  may  easily  live 
long  in  a  few  years.  They  learned  that  our  highest 
joy  does  not  come  from  luxury,  ease,  success  in  this 
world,  but  from  generous  renunciation,  self- for- 
getting devotion  ;  surrender  of  all  we  have  and  are 
to  the  cause  of  virtue,  liberty,  justice,  and  humanity. 

Education  will  at  last  become  a  high  art,  based  on 


INTRO  D  UC  TOR  Y.  27 

a  true  science  of  Human  Nature.  Then  the  true 
teacher  will  be  found  to  be  one  of  the  noblest  bene- 
factors of  his  race,  —  the  best  follower  perhaps  of 
Him  who  asked  that  the  little  children  might  come 
to  Him.  So  shall  instruction  in  all  valuable  knowl- 
edge grow  more  complete  and  thorough  ;  and  the 
boy  or  girl  who  has  received  a  liberal  education  may 
be  really  presumed  to  hioio  something  of  each  im- 
portant branch  of  human  science.  So  shall  Train- 
ing of  all  the  faculties  accompany  INSTRUCTION, 
and  the  end  of  all  be  the  fall  DEVELOPMENT  of  the 
man. 

In  the  Lectures  which  follow,  1  have  called  atten- 
tion to  the  need  and  the  practicability  of  unfolding 
to  a  much  higher  degree  than  has  usually  been 
thought  possible,  the  primal  faculties  of  man.  I 
might  have  called  these  papers  Lectures  on  Chris- 
tian Culture,  for  I  have  shown  how  naturally  the 
Christianity  of  the  Gospels  allies  itself  with  the  full 
development  of  human  nature.  I  hope  that  the 
frequent  references  to  the  spirit  of  Christ's  teaching 
will  not  be  thought  out  of  place.  This  spirit  seems 
to  me  both  a  strong  incentive  and  a  practical  guide 
in  education.  While  there  is  no  dogma  of  any  kind 
in  the  book,  I  do  not  think  it  will  be  less  valua- 
ble for  its  purpose,  for  occasional  references  of  this 
kind. 


I. 


MAN'S    DUTY    TO    GROW. 


I. 

MAN'S  DUTY  TO  GROW. 


GOD  has  placed  us  here  to  grow,  just  as  he 
placed  the  trees  and  flowers.  The  trees  and 
the  flowers  grow  unconsciously,  and  by  no  effort  of 
their  own.  Man,  too,  grows  unconsciously,  and  is 
educated  by  circumstances.  But  he  can  also  control 
those  circumstances,  and  direct  the  course  of  his  life. 
He  can  educate  himself;  he  can,  by  effort  and 
thought,  acquire  knowledge,  become  accomplished, 
refine  and  purify  his  nature,  develop  his  powers, 
strengthen  his  character.  And  because  he  can  do 
this,  he  ought  to  do  it. 

It  is  curious  that  Christian  teachers  should  have 
so  often  neglected  to  inculcate  this  -duty  of  self-cul- 
ture, seeing  that  it  is  so  plainly  taught  by  Jesus  in  the 
Ci-ospels.  This  is  the  doctrine  of  the  parable  of  the 
talents  and  of  the  pounds.  Both  teach  that  it  is 
not  enough  to  render  back  to  our  Master  what  we 
have  received,  unimpaired  and  uninjured;  but  that 
we  must  bring  back  more  than  we  receive,  — that  is, 
that  we   must  add  something,  by  our  own  industry 


32  SELE-CUL  TURE. 

and  fidelity,  to  what  God  intrusts  to  us  ;  that  we  are 
his  stewards.  The  parable  of  the  talents  teaches 
the  law  of  responsibility ;  that  of  the  pounds,  the 
law  of  retribution.  The  first  shows  that  the  more 
we  receive,  the  more  we  are  bound  to  do  ;  those  who 
have  two  talents  must  bring  two  more ;  those  who 
have  five,  five  more.  The  other  shows  that  the  more 
we  gain,  the  more  we  shall  receive ;  that  progress  is 
not  according  to  arithmetical  but  geometrical  pro- 
gression ;  that  it  is  a  constantly  accelerated  progress. 

Ten  men  have  each  a  single  pound.  One  gains 
two  pounds,  and  receives  two  cities ;  one  five,  and 
receives  five  cities.  Not  merely  two  pounds,  but  two 
cities ;  the  powers  developed  in  a  lower  service  are 
employed  in  a  higher  one.  The  man  who  is  faithful 
in  a  few  things  here  will  be  made  ruler  over  many 
things  there.  Here,  perhaps,  his  business  was  to 
make  horseshoes ;  bat  he  made  them  faithfully ; 
he  learned  how  to  make  better  horseshoes,  and 
more  of  them,  as  he  went  on.  Consequently  he 
may  be  found  fitted,  in  another  sphere,  not  to  make 
horseshoes,  but  to  help  govern  a  planet.  But,  in 
both  parables,  the  servant  who  brought  back  only 
what  was  given  him,  without  improving  it,  is 
called  a  wicked  and  slothful  servant,  and  loses  what 
he  first  received.  Improve  your  talents,  or  lose 
them,  that  is  the  austere  law. 

And  this  legislative  enactment  of  the  Divine 
Lawgiver,  in  the  Xew  Testament,  has  been  confirmed 
by  all  the  decisions  of  the    Supreme  Court  of  the 


MAWS  DUTY   TO    CROW.  33 

Deity  m  Nature.  Use  and  improve,  or  lose.  This  is 
the  sentence  pronounced  on  each  of  us  by  all  the 
courts  of  God,  in  the  physical,  intellectual,  and 
moral  world.  Use  and  improve  your  muscles  and 
your  perceptions,  or  they  will  gradually  but  certainly 
fail.  Use  and  improve  your  memory,  your  under- 
standing, your  judgment,  or  they  will  become  feeble. 
Use  and  improve  your  conscience,  or  it  grows  tor- 
pid. Use  and  improve  the  powers  which  look  up  to 
an  infinite  truth,  beauty,  and  goodness,  and  they  lift 
you  towards  these.  Let  them  sleep,  and  they  cannot 
see  this  kingdom  of  God,  this  Divine  element  in  the 
universe.  The  fool,  who  has  not  developed  his  spir- 
itual nature,  says  in  his  heart,  "There  is  no  God." 
Nature  reaches  its  hand  to  Revelation  to  maintain 
this  law,  and  both,  with  concurrent  voice,  cry,  "  Use 
and  improve,  or  lose." 

If  man  has  the  power  of  self-improvement,  then 
this  power  is  itself  a  talent  confided  to  him.  Unless 
he  improves,  he  does  not  use  this  power.  But  this 
power  of  perpetual  self-improvement  is  one  of  the 
chief  distinctions  between  man  and  the  lower 
animals,  between  civilized  races  and  savage  races. 
Animals  can  be  trained  by  man,  but  they  cannot 
train  themselves.  They  can  be  taught  some  accom- 
plishments, formed  to  some  new  habits ;  but  where 
man  has  not  done  this  for  them,  they  remain  uned- 
ucated. Savage  races  reach  a  certain  point  of  im- 
provement under  the  influence  of  circumstances  ; 
and   then    they  stop,    their   development   arrested. 

3 


34  SELF-  CI  TL  TL  'RE. 

But,  in  the  higher  civilization  of  Christendom,  no 
such  limit  has  been  reached,  and  none  such  appears 
in  the  future.  Christian  civilization  forgets  the 
things  behind,  and  reaches  out  to  those  before.  Each 
generation  is  born  on  a  little  higher  plane  of  attain- 
ment, in  science,  art,  and  social  faculty,  than  that 
which  preceded  it.  But  this  social  progress  de- 
pends on  individual  progress.  Every  man  who  im- 
proves himself  is  aiding  the  progress  of  society; 
every  one  who  stands  still,  holds  it  back.  The 
progress  of  society  always  commences  in  individual 
souls.  A  great  advancing  soul  carries  forward  his 
whole  age  ;  a  mean,  sordid  soul  draws  it  back.  That 
is  a  good  reason  why  the  talent  should  be  taken 
from  him,  and  given  to  another. 

That  man  was  made  for  progress  appears  evident 
from  the  fact  that,  without  progress  in  some  form, 
life  itself  becomes  undesirable,  almost  unendurable. 
With  a  sense  of  progress,  even  of  the  lowest  kind, 
the  interest  of  life  revives.  As  long  as  a  man  has 
hope,  he  can  bear  anything,  endure  anything,  and 
be  happy.  Take  from  him  hope,  and  his  heart  is 
dead  before  his  body  dies.  Nothing  that  we  have, 
or  are,  can  satisfy  us  for  more  than  a  moment.  If  a 
man  fixes  his  heart  on  pleasure,  then  he  must  have 
some  new  pleasure  to-morrow  beyond  what  he  has 
to-day,  or  he  is  weary.  If  he  fixes  his  heart  on  the 
acquisition  of  wealth,  then  he  must  have  a  larger 
property  this  year  than  lie  had  last.  So  with  fame, 
position,  power,  knowledge,  —  all  tire  us  if  we  have 


MAN'S   DUTY   TO    GROW.  35 

to  stand  still.  We  must  look  forward,  or  die.  We 
are  like  the  man  crossing  a  wild  stream  on  a  narrow 
log,  — he  is  only  safe  while  he  goes  on  ;  if  he  stops, 
he  falls.  The  dreadful  disease  of  ennui,  of  life- 
weariness,  attacks  all  who  have  no  aim,  no  perma- 
nent purpose,  who  are  not  looking  forward,  onward, 
upward.  The  only  two  classes  of  men  who  are  safe 
from  this  poison  of  life  are  those  who  have  an  aim 
and  those  who  are  doing  steady  work.  The  great 
mass  of  men  and  women  are  contented  because  they 
are  obliged  to  work.  Of  those  who  are  not  obliged 
to  work,  those  only  are  contented  who  continue  to 
work  because  they  have  some  purpose,  some  object, 
something  to  which  to  look  forward.  The  wine  of 
life  is  the  sense  of  progress. 

The  love  of  money,  says  the  Apostle,  is  the  root  of 
all  evil.  So  it  is ;  but  it  is  also  the  root  of  a  great 
amount  of  good.  The  love  of  money,  in  bad  men 
and  weak  men,  incites  to  cheating,  lying,  cruelty, 
meanness,  reckless  speculation,  cold-blooded  murder. 
But  love  of  money,  as  the  desire  of  getting  on  in 
the  world,  is  a  constant  source  of  industry,  foresight, 
prudence,  economy.  It  educates  the  whole  commu- 
nity to  these  virtues.  It  furnishes  hope  to  ten 
thousand  homes.  Stand  in  the  street  of  a  large  city 
at  evening,  and  see  the  very  poor  going  to  their 
houses.  What  are  they  ?  Cellars,  garrets,  hid  away 
in  dark  courts,  dirty,  without  Ventilation,  with  noth- 
ing of  comfort  about  them,  still  less  of  beauty  or 
taste.     You  say,  "  How  can  they  bear  life    under 


36  SELF-CULTURE. 

such  conditions  ? "  Because  in  these  poor  homes 
there  is  love,  there  is  intelligence,  warm  social  affec- 
tions. A  great  deal  of  strong  thinking  is  done  in 
them.  But,  besides  this,  there  is  a  sense  of  progress. 
They  are  getting  on,  or  hoping  to  do  so.  They  hope 
to  lay  by  enough  to  buy  a  small  house  some  day ;  to 
educate  their  children,  and  to  leave  them  higher  up 
in  the  world  than  they  are  themselves. 

Progress,  in  the  sense  of  acquisition,  is  some- 
thing ;  but  progress  in  the  sense  of  being,  is  a  great 
deal  more.  To  grow  higher,  deeper,  wider,  as  the 
years  go  on  ;  to  conquer  difficulties,  and  acquire 
more  and  more  power  ;  to  feel  all  one's  faculties  un- 
folding, and  truth  descending  into  the  soul, — this 
makes  life  worth  living. 

We  all  believe  in  education  ;  but  what  is  it  that 
we  call  education  ?  A  few  years  at  school ;  a  little 
reading,  writing,  arithmetic  ;  a  few  studies  super- 
ficially pursued,  —  this  is  commonly  understood  to  be 
education.  But  education,  in  the  true  sense,  is  not 
mere  instruction  in  Latin,  English,  French,  or  his- 
tory. It  is  the  unfolding  of  the  whole  human  na- 
ture. It  is  growing  up  in  all  things  to  our  highest 
possibility.  This  is  a  life-work;  a  work  in  which 
our  teachers  are  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  day  and 
night,  work  and  rest,  nature  and  society,  heavenly 
inspirations  and  human  sympathies,  success  and 
failure,  sickness,  pain,  bereavement ;  all  of  this  great 
human  life.  And  with  this  teaching,  there  must  be 
the   earnest  desire  and  purpose  in  our  own   soul  to 


MAX'S  DUTY   TO   GROW.  3, 

grow,  to  become  larger,  deeper,  higher,  nobler,  year 
by  year. 

For  these  reasons,  we  say  that  all  should  aim  at 
self-culture.  "  Very  early,"  said  Margaret  Fuller, 
"  I  perceived  that  the  object  of  life  is  to  grow." 
She  herself  was  a  remarkable  instance  of  the  power 
of  the  human  being  to  go  forward  and  upward.  Of 
her  it  might  be  said,  as  Goethe  said  of  Schiller,  "  If 
I  did  not  see  him  for  a  fortnight,  T  was  astonished 
to  find  what  progress  he  had  made  in  that  interim." 
Every  year  she  lived  added  depth  to  her  thought, 
largeness  to  her  comprehension,  devotion  to  her 
soul.  Being  at  first  somewhat  egotistic,  disdainful, 
proud,  she  became,  at  last,  modest,  sympathetic,  and 
kind  to  the  lowest  and  humblest.  This  generous 
nature  took  its  own  way  to  perfection.  Whether 
teaching  young  girls  in  Xew  England,  or  nursing 
wounded  Italian  soldiers  in  Rome ;  whether  study- 
ing with  untiring  energy  the  literatures  of  Europe, 
or  scraping  lint  for  the  patriots  who  followed  Mazzini, 
- —  she  was  always  going  forward  and  onward  to  the 
end  of  her  days. 

Consider,  also,  such  a  character  as  that  of  John 
Milton,  who,  having  determined  early  to  write  a 
work  "  which  the  world  would  not  willingly  let  die," 
thought  within  himself  "  that  he  who  would  truly 
write  a  heroic  poem  must  make  Ins  whole  life  a 
heroic  poem."  He,  therefore,  describes  his  long 
devotion  to  that  work  of  improvement,  and  tells  us 
how  his  "  appetite  for  knowledge  was  so  voracious 


3  8  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

that  from  twelve  years  of  age  he  hardly  ever  left  his 
studies  or  went  to  bed  before  midnight;"  then  how 
he  "  passed  seven  years  in  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge," "  with  the  approbation  of  the  good,  and 
without  any  stain  on  my  character."  And  how, 
then,  "  being  anxious  to  visit  foreign  parts,  and 
especially  Italy,"  lie  saw  great  kindred  souls,  like 
Grotius  and  Galileo,  and  the  antiquities  and  arts  of 
Florence  and  Koine.  After  defending  the  Preformed 
religion  in  the  capital  of  the  Pope,  he  returned  to 
England,  when  he  heard  of  the  civil  commotions 
there ;  "  for  I  thought,"  says  he,  "  it  base  to  be  trav- 
elling for  a  moment  abroad,  while  my  fellow-citizens 
were  fighting  for  liberty  at  home." 

John  Milton  did  make  of  his  whole  life  a  heroic 
poem,  and  at  last,  old  and  blind,  fallen  on  evil  days 
and  tongues,  he  sat  in  his  obscurity  and  composed 
his  immortal  poem,  which  the  world  will  never 
"willingly  let  die."  We  reverence  him  most  of  all, 
because  he  was  himself  greater  than  his  poetry. 

"But  we  cannot  all  be  Miltons,"  you  say.  Not 
every  man  by  any  amount  of  culture  can  become  a 
Milton  ;  not  every  woman  can  become  a  Margaret 
Fuller.  Xo,  nor  is  it  so  intended.  But  we  ran  all 
be  as  faithful  in  our  measure  as  they  were  in  theirs. 
Each  of  our  souls  may  be  unfolded  into  something 
as  beautiful,  as  necessary  to  God's  world,  as  the 
souls  of  the  great  heroes  and  saints.  It  would  not 
do  to  have  too  many  heroes  and  saints.  An  army 
made  up  wholly  of  generals  would  win  no  battles. 


MAN'S  DUTY   TO   GROW.  39 

Soldiers  are  as  necessary  as  generals  in  the  battle  of 
life,  — 

"  A  battle,  whose  great  scheme  and  scope 
They  little  care  to  know, 
Content,  as  men  at  arms,  to  cope 
Each  with  his  fronting  foe." 

I  do  not  believe  that  we  are  able  to  make  of  our- 
selves anything  we  please.  But  we  can  make  of 
ourselves  what  God  pleases  we  should  be.  In  every 
soul  he  has  deposited  the  germ  of  a  great  future. 
Every  soul  is  a  seed.  It  does  not  yet  appear  what 
it  shall  be,  —  it  is  bare  grain.  Of  some  seeds  may 
be  born  beautiful  roses  ;  others  will  become  modest 
violets  :  some  will  tower  into  graceful  elms,  whose 
branches  shall  bend  and  wave  in  the  summer  air, 
and  beneath  whose  far-reaching  shadows  tne  cattle 
shall  stand  resting  in  the  hot  days.  Others  shall 
become  grasses  for  food,  herbs  for  the  cure  of  disease 
and  solace  of  pain,  —  "  to  every  seed  its  own  body." 

Formerly  we  were  told  of  the  formation  of  char- 
acter, and  this  was  inculcated,  as  though  each  man 
could  carve  himself  into  what  he  pleased ;  that  by 
sheer  force  of  will  he  could  make  himself  a  char- 
acter to  suit  himself.  I  have  heard  some  prosaic 
persons  say  that,  no  doubt,  if  they  had  taken  the 
trouble,  they  could  have  learned  to  write  as  good 
poetry  as  Lord  Byron.  I  believe  in  no  such  possi- 
bility. I  rather  would  believe  that  in  every  man's 
organization  there  was  decreed,  before  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world,  everv  man's  destinv.     Every  one 


40  SELF-CULTURE. 

of  us  was  made  to  be  something  noble,  good,  lovely, 
useful,  but  not  all  the  same.  Instead  of  the  forma- 
tion of  character,  we  now  speak  of  development, 
which  is  a  much  truer  word.  There  is  a  seed  of  the 
future  in  each  of  us,  which  we  can  unfold  if  we 
please,  or  leave  to  be  forever  only  a  stunted,  half- 
grown  stalk.  We  are  free  to  do,  to  become,  or  re- 
fuse to  become,  what  God  means  us  to  be  and  made 
us  be.  One  shall  be  a  rose  in  God's  garden,  "angry 
and  brave ; "  another  a  buttercup  or  a  sweet-pea. 
One  shall  open  as  a  tender  morning-glory,  and  give 
the  poet  a  hint  of  a  strain  so  sweet  that  it  shall 
comfort  all  mourning  mothers'  hearts ;  and  another 
be  a  daisy,  turned  up  by  a  Scottish  plough,  and, 
dying  so,  be  born  again  into  an  immortal  song. 
"Why  shouldst  thou  envy  thy  brother  because  he  is 
more  wise,  or  lias  more  genius,  more  business  faculty, 
than  thou  \  Why  envy  thy  sister  because  she  is 
more  fair,  more  brilliant  ?  The  buttercup  does  not 
envy  the  rose,  nor  the  prairie  vine  complain  because 
it  is  not  a  Virginia  creeper.  God  has  made  every- 
thing beautiful  in  its  time  and  place  ;  let  it  only  be 
contented  to  unfold  into  that  which  he  intends  it  to 
become. 

But  the  power  of  circumstances,  you  say,  are  so 
great  that  they  prevent  self-culture.  We  have  no 
time,  no  opportunity,  to  make  anything  of  ourselves. 
We  are  obliged  to  work  for  our  daily  bread  ;  we  are 
fettered  by  unfavorable  circumstances  ;  how  can  we 
ever  unfold  ourselves  into  anvthim*  of  value  ? 


MAN'S  DUTY   TO    GROW.  41 

These  are  the  arguments  of  cowardice  and  unbe- 
lief. Look !  0  thou  of  little  faith,  at  the  great 
workers  in  the  world,  and  see  how  they  have  fought 
their  way  to  triumph  against  all  sorts  of  opposing 
obstacles.  Milton  wrote  "Paradise  Lost"  in  blind- 
ness and  poverty.  Luther  sang  in  the  streets  to  buy 
bread  as  a  child,  and  before  he  could  establish  the 
Reformation  had  to  encounter  the  prestige  of  a 
thousand  years,  the  united  power  of  an  imperious 
hierarchy,  and  the  ban  of  the  German  Empire.  Lin- 
naeus determined  to  devote  his  life  to  the  study  of 
plants,  and  had  only  about  forty  dollars  with  which 
to  get  his  education.  He  was  so  poor  as  to  be 
obliged  to  mend  his  shoes  with  folded  paper,  and 
often  to  beg  his  meals  of  his  friends.  Columbus 
was  not  sent  to  discover  America  in  a  steamship ; 
but  beset  and  importuned  in  turn  the  States  of 
Genoa,  Portugal,  Venice,  France,  England,  and  Spain 
before  he  could  get  the  control  of  three  small  vessels 
and  one  hundred  and  twenty  men.  Marlborough  and 
Wellington  won  their  great  battles  in  spite  of  the 
perpetual  opposition  and  resistance  of  the  govern- 
ments for  which  they  were  fighting.  Hugh  Miller, 
who  became  one  of  the  first  geological  writers  of  his 
time,  was  apprenticed  to  a  stone-mason,  and,  while 
working  in  the  quarry,  already  began  to  study  the 
stratum  of  red  sandstone  lying  below  one  of  red  clay. 
Where  other  men  complain  of  circumstances,  the 
man  or  boy  who  has  an  idea  and  a  purpose  compels 
these  untoward  circumstances  to  serve  him.    Where 


42  SELF-CULTURE. 

others  see  nothing  but  bare  rock,  he  notices  analo- 
gies and  differences.  George  Stephenson,  the  inventor 
of  the  locomotive  engine,  was  a  common  collier, 
working  in  the  mines.  James  Watt,  the  inventor 
of  the  steam-engine,  was  a  poor  sickly  child,  not 
strong  enough  to  go  to  school.  John  Calvin,  who  gave 
a  theology  to  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centu- 
ries, which  it  has  hardly  yet  outgrown,  was  tortured 
with  disease  all  his  days.  So  was  Robert  Hall,  the 
greatest  preacher  of  his  time.  What  favorable  cir- 
cumstances helped  the  peasant  girl  of  Arc  to  deliver 
France,  when  kings  and  great  generals  had  failed  ? 
In  what  cradle  of  easy  circumstances  were  Pascal 
and  Shakspeare,  George  Fox  the  Quaker,  Spinoza  and 
Charlotte  Bronte  or  Harriet  Martineau,  rocked  into 
success  ?  They  were  pillowed  on  hardship,  taught 
by  poverty,  made  strong  by  neglect,  made  pure  by 
loneliness.  All  the  great  founders  of  religious  sects, 
Buddha  and  Mohammed,  Augustine  and  St.  Francis, 
Wesley  or  George  Fox,  have  been  denounced,  perse- 
cuted, and  reviled  through  long  years  of  fierce  oppo- 
sition. Have  we  not  seen,  in  our  own  day,  the 
antislavery  reformers  forcing  their  way  to  triumph 
against  the  combined  opposition  of  churches,  politi- 
cal parties,  commerce  and  manufactures,  and  the 
saloons  ?  When  were  circumstances  ever  favora- 
ble to  any  great  or  good  attempt,  except  as  they 
were  compelled  by  a  determined  purpose  to  become 
favorable  ? 

1  have  'dven  well-known  instances  of  those  who 


MAX'S  DUTY   TO    GROW.  43 

have  struggled  up  to  fame  and  influence  in  spite 
of  the  most  unfavorable  circumstances.  But  these 
famous  people,  often  gifted  with  that  mastering  and 
irrepressible  quality  which  we  call  genius,  are  not 
the  best  illustrations  of  the  power  of  growth  in  man. 
Go  out  into  any  New  England  village  and  look 
around  you.  In  each  such  community  you  will 
find  men  and  women  who  have  developed  power  of 
mind  and  heart  by  simple  fidelity  to  truth  and  con- 
science, until  they  have  become  sources  of  light  and 
comfort  to  all  the  neighborhood.  Do  any  need 
advice,  sagacious  counsel,  wise  help,  in  difficulty  ?  — 
they  go  to  this  village  Franklin,  to  this  Oberlin  or 
Algernon  Sidney  of  the  hillside,  and  find  new  cour- 
age and  new  hope.  Is  there  a  poor  woman,  half 
driven  to  despair  by  untoward  fortune  ?  She  goes 
to  the  mother-confessor  of  the  town,  and  tells  her 
tale  of  woe,  and  finds  sympathy,  advice,  and  help. 
This  woman,  who  has  taken  no  vows  in  any  sister- 
hood, and  wears  no  garb  indicating  that  she  is  set 
apart  to  religion,  is  yet  the  true  patron-saint  of  the 
little  neighborhood.  Long  experience  in  well-doing 
has  developed  a  wonderful  gift  of  helpfulness.  Sor- 
rows of  her  own  have  taught  her  to  feel  for  others. 
Blessings  precede,  attend,  and  follow  her  footsteps. 
Perhaps  she  is  poor,  perhaps  unattractive  in  appear- 
ance or  manners,  and  yet  a  sweet  halo  of  generous 
kindness  spreads  soothing  influence  around  her. 
Her  cheerful  patience  and  hope,  and  unfaltering 
courage,  are  a  perpetual  inspiration.     She,  by  patient 


44  SELF-Cl  'L  TUNE. 

continuance  in  well-doing,  has  grown  up  into  all  she 
was  meant  to  be  by  her  Creator. 

I  gave  an  address  in  Central  New  York  one  sum- 
mer in  which  I  described  such  a  woman  as  this, 
and,  after  the  lecture  was  over,  the  people  of  the 
town  declared  I  had  been  painting  the  portrait  of 
one  of  their  neighbors.  Of  course  I  had  never  seen 
her  nor  known  her,  but  this  shows  how  many  there 
are  who  by  faithfulness  inherit  the  promise,  "  Give 
and  it  shall  be  given  you." 

"  Far  from  the  madding  crowd's  ignoble,  strife, 
Their  sober  wishes  never  learn  to  stray  ; 
Along  the  cool,  sequestered  vale  of  life 

They  keep  the  noiseless  tenor  of  their  way." 

A  man  cannot  make  of  himself  anything  he 
chooses,  but  he  can  carry  out  Cod's  intentions  con- 
cerning him,  if,  with  a  single  eye  to  doing  what  is 
best,  and  becoming  what  he  was  meant  to  be,  he 
makes  use  of  all  circumstances,  favorable  or  unfav- 
orable. 

But  perhaps  you  may  say,  Is  not  self-culture,  in 
the  last  analysis,  a  selfish  aim  '.  Is  it  nut  better  to 
make  it  one's  aim  to  do  the  nearest  duty,  or  to  do  all 
the  good  wo,  can  to  our  fellow-creatures,  rather  than 
to  cultivate  our  own  powers  and  unfold  our  own 
nature?  This  objection  is  a  serious  one,  and  de- 
serves to  be  considered  before  going  further. 

Xo  doubt  there  is  a  danger  in  making  self-cul- 
ture an  exclusive  aim.  There  are  rocks  ahead,  no 
matter  in  what  direction  we  may  steer.      The  rock 


MAN'S  DUTY   TO    GROW.  40 

ahead,  if  we  steer  toward  self-culture,  is  .selfishness. 
The  man  who  devotes  himself  to  the  cultivation  of 
any  faculty,  talent,  or  taste,  is  in  danger  of  separat- 
ing himself  in  his  sympatl^ies  from  the  mass  of  his 
fellow-men,  in  whom  that  faculty  or  taste  is  dor- 
mant. Graver  still  is  the  danger  which  comes  from 
making  one's  self  the  object  of  all  one's  thoughts. 
This  has  often  been  seen  in  religious  experience, 
where  too  much  stress  has  been  laid  on  making  per- 
sonal salvation  the  great  object  of  life.  This  may 
end  in  a  morbid  self-included  aim.  The  West- 
minster Assembly  therefore  wisely  declared  that  the 
chief  end  of  man  was  to  "glorify  Clod,"  as  well  as 
"  to  enjoy  him  forever."  And  the  Hopkinsian 
School  of  Theology  went  further,  and  so  subor- 
dinated the  desire  of  personal  happiness  here  or 
hereafter  to  the  love  of  absolute  goodness,  as  to 
declare  that  no  one  was  capable  of  being  saved  till 
he  was  willing  to  be  damned  for  the  glory  of  God. 

But  in  all  extremes  there  are  dangers.  The  mod- 
ern equivalent  for  "the  glory  of  God"  would  be 
Truth,  Goodness,  Humanity,  Universal  Progress,  or 
some  such  generalization.  But  the  same  danger  of 
egotism  emerges  also  here.  Men  whose  lives  are 
devoted  to  these  large  abstractions,  patriots,  philan- 
thropists, and  reformers  of  all  sorts,  are  often  for- 
getful of  daily  duties,  neglectful  of  home  ties.  This, 
at  least,  is  their  risk,  —  if  they  fall,  they  fall  in  that 
direction. 

Thomas  Carlyle.  at  one  period,  satirized  this  ten- 


46  SELF-CULTURE. 

dency  of  world-reformers  with  the  whole  force  of 
his  sharpest  satire.  The  aim  which  he  suggested 
and  urged  was  the  opposite  to  all  this.  "  Do  your 
nearest  duty  !  "  A  large  class  of  his  admirers  im- 
mediately adopted  this  maxim  as  their  motto  in 
life,  and  began  courageously  to  do  their  nearest 
duties.  Anil  certainly  this,  too,  is  a  very  useful 
rule,  if  not  carried  to  an  extreme,  and  not  made 
an  exclusive  one.  But  there  is  evidently  danger 
on  this  side  too.  Persons  who  are  confined  alto- 
gether to  home  cares  and  family  duties  become  nar- 
row. It  is  very  well  to  talk  about  "  fireside  virtues," 
—  but  how  many  men  and  women  have  had  their 
mental  and  moral  growth  stifled  by  limiting  their 
obligations  to  their  business  and  home.  The  danger 
from  this  aim  is  narrowness.  If  those  who  adopt  it 
fall,  they  fall  in  that  direction.  "Doing  good"  is 
another  aim.  To  do  the  greatest  good  to  the  greatest 
number,  to  help  all  who  need  help,  is  often,  in  our 
time,  thought  the  true  "  imitation  of  Christ."  The 
modern  Christian  does  not  retire  into  a  cell  to 
pray,  but  goes  about  doing  good.  He  thus  avoids 
the  risk  of  narrowness,  which  attends  the  man  who 
desires  only  to  do  the  "  nearest  duty."  But  there  is 
a  danger  here  also,  —  that  of  shallowness.  The  man 
who  is  always  giving,  never  receiving;  always  help- 
ing others,  and  never  feeding  his  own  soul,  is  in 
danger  of  becoming  empty.  His  virtue  leans  that 
way,  and  if  lie  falls,  he  will  fall  in  that  direction. 
No  single  aim.  exclusively  pursued,  is  without  its 


MAWS  DUTY   TO    GROW.  4/ 

risks.  Moral  forces  are  polar  forces,  and  every  vir- 
tue 1ms  its  antagonist  virtue.  We  admit,  therefore, 
while  advocating  self-culture,  that  it  should  not  he 
pursued  to  the  exclusion  of  other  aims,  hut  includ- 
ing them,  as  necessary  adjuncts  and  helpers.  While 
seeking  to  develop  one's  powers  in  an  integral  way, 
we  must  hear  in  mind  also  one's  duty  to  God  and 
man.  To  live  in  The  Whole,  is  the  way  to  live 
wisely  in  any  part. 

lie  who  devotes  himself  to  self-culture  should 
therefore  hear  constantly  in  his  mind  the  justifica- 
tion of  this  method  of  life.  It  is  justified,  if  he 
seeks  thus  to  advance  the  good  of  others  as  well  as 
his  own  ;  to  use  his  developed  powers  for  the  cause 
of  justice,  truth,  and  humanity  ;  to  hecome  a  hetter 
friend  to  his  friends,  a  greater  help  and  blessing  in 
his  home,  to  do  the  common  duties  of  life  more 
ably;  and  thus  to  serve  God  and  man  better  than  he 
could  do  without  such  culture. 

In  my  youth  I  knew  two  young  men  who  adopted 
fur  their  aims,  the,  one,  self-culture,  the  other, 
philanthropy.  The  one  sought  to  educate  himself; 
the  other,  to  do  good.  After  a  while,  the  youth  who 
sought  self-culture  found  that  to  get  it  he  must  quit 
the  still  air  of  delightful  study,  and  go  out  to  help 
his  brother  man.  He  found  that  he  needed  work, 
sympathy,  society,  in  order  not  to  freeze;  and  so,  in 
order  to  gain  self-development,  he  became  a  man  of 
usefulness.  The  other,  who  began  by  doing  good, 
found   himself   at   last   growing  shallow.      He  had 


48  SELF-CULTURE. 

emptied  himself,  and  had  to  stop  to  fill  himself  full 
again.  He  said,  "  I  must  be  something,  in  order  to 
do  something.  I  must  gain,  in  order  to  give."  So, 
from  motives  of  philanthropy,  he  proceeded  to  culti- 
vate his  mind  and  develop  his  faculties. 

1  do  not  think  that  making  self-development  an 
aim  will  ever  lead  to  selfishness,  if  this  aim  is  pur- 
sued in  the  spirit  of  the  two  parables  to  which  1 
have  referred.  If  we  cultivate  all  the  powers  of 
body  and  soul  in  order  to  use  them  as  talents  in  the 
service  of  God,  not  in  order  to  gain  for  ourselves 
glory,  or  merely  to  excel  others,  but  because  God 
lias  made  us  to  grow  and  intends  us  to  grow,  that 
we  may  be  plants  in  his  garden,  every  blossom  a 
censer  swinging  its  perfume  on  the  air  for  him,  every 
fruit  ripening  that  it  may  bless  and  help  his  crea- 
tures.—  then  1  believe  that  this  aim  will  be  in  all 
respects  a  true  and  good  one. 

These,  then,  are  the  conditions,  and  these  the  pos- 
sibilities of  growth.  We  are  put  here  to  grow,  and 
we  ought  to  grow,  and  to  use  all  the  means  of  growth 
according  to  the  laws  of  our  being.  Hereafter  we 
will  consider  further  what  those  laws  are.  and  what 
are  the  means  of  our  progress. 

We  grow  only  when  we  become  more  and  more 
ourselves,  our  best  selves,  our  truest  selves,  the 
selves  that  God  made  us  to  be.  We  do  not  grow 
when  we  try  to  be  like  this  man  or  that,  to  strive 
for  this  man's  wit  or  that  man's  scope,  to  become 
like  this  saint  or  that  Junius.     The  rose  grows  when 


MAX'S  DUTY   TO    GROW.  Ill 

it  unfolds  into  a  rose,  not  when  it  tries  to  become 
any  other  shrub  or  flower.  The  palm  springs  erect 
to  heaven,  and  grows  up  a  palm  ;  the  vine  creeps, 
and  hangs,  and  swings  in  the  air,  and  pours  fragrance 
on  the  breeze,  and  grows  into  a  vine.  Thus  God 
has  made  each  of  us  to  be  something,  to  have  a  real 
place,  and  do  a  real  work  in  this  world,  and  that  our 
own  work,  which  no  one  else  can  do.  If  we  are 
faithful  to  the  inner  light  of  our  own  conviction,  and 
to  the  daily  duties  which  God  sends  to  us,  we  shall 
grow.  With  glad  surprise  v\a  shall  find  ourselves 
becoming  genuine  and  real  plants,  of  use  or  beauty, 
in  the  garden  of  our  God. 


II. 


TRAINING  AND   CARE   OF  THE 
BODY. 


n. 

TRAINING  AND  CARE  OF  THE  BODY. 


IN  many  of  the  ancient  religions  the  body  was 
thought  to  he  the  enemy  of  the  soul.  The 
duty  of  a  religious  man,  therefore,  was  to  weaken 
the  hotly,  as  far  as  was  possible,  without  destroying 
life.  The  body  was  to  be  kept  under  by  means  of 
mortifying  practices,  —  fasting,  want  of  sleep,  poor 
clothes  or  none,  by  living  out  of  doors,  and,  finally, 
by  self-inflicted  flagellation.  Only  one  ancient 
nation  —  the  Egyptian  —  appears  to  have  had  much 
respect  for  the  human  body.  The  Egyptians  took 
care  of  the  body  during  life,  and  preserved  it  after 
death.  They  saw  something  divine  in  all  living  or- 
ganizations. In  worshipping  animals  and  vegetables 
they  worshipped  the  mysterious  principle  of  organ- 
ization, that  vital  power  which  is  to  us,  as  it  was  to 
them,  utterly  marvellous  and  inscrutable.  The 
Egyptians  thought  it  religious  to  adore  and  worship 
the  body;  other  nations  thought  it  religious  to 
despise  and  ill-treat  the  body.  Christians  have, 
therefore,    followed    the    Brahmins    and    Buddhists 


54  SELF-CL  TL  Tl  'RE. 

more  than  the  Egyptians  in  their  view  of  the  body, 
and  have  thought .  that  the  greatest  saint  was  the 
man  who  lived  in  a  cave,  half-starved,  and  very 
dirty.  But  there  is  no  such  doctrine  taught  in  the 
New  Testament.  The  Son  of  Man  came  eating  and 
drinking.  Neither  Paul  nor  John  nor  Peter  ad- 
vised, their  disciples  to  become  monks  and  nuns. 
When  Peter  repented  of  denying  his  master,  he  did 
not  proceed  to  inflict  flagellation  on  himself,  punish- 
ing his  body  for  the  sin  of  his  soul.  The  letter  and 
the  spirit  of  the  New  Testament  teach  that  we  are 
to  glorify  God  with  our  body,  as  well  as  our  spirit. 
And  I  proceed  now  to  show  how  we  can  glorify  God 
with  our  body  ;  or,  to  speak  in  modern  language, 
how  the  body  may  be  made  the  means  of  self-culture. 

We  glorify  God  with  our  body  by  keeping  it  in 
good  health. 

Good  health  is  the  basis  of  all  physical,  intel- 
lectual, mural,  and  spiritual  development.  Men  and 
women,  permanent  invalids,  have,  no  doubt,  been 
sometimes  distinguished  as  thinkers  and  workers.  A 
powerful  soul  will  triumph  over  bodily  disease  ;  but 
usually  a  sick  thinker  has  something  sickly  in  Ins 
thought.  Calvin,  whose  life  was  darkened  by  dis- 
ease, had  a  morbid  and  gloomy  element  in  his  the- 
ology. Emaciated  and  sickly  saints  usually  have  a 
sickly  piety.  I  believe  that  Jesus  was  healthy  in 
body  as  in  mind  ;  all  bis  faculties  active,  and  so 
lull  of  vital  power  as  to  awe  ami  control  even  Ins 
opponents,  who  came  expecting  to   put    him  down. 


TRAINING   AND    CARE    OF   THE   BODY.        55 

For  a  certain  amount  of  vital  energy  is  needed  to 
give  weight  to  the  best  argument.  To  be  a  great 
prophet  it  is  necessary,  not  only  to  have  inspiration 
and  conviction,  but  also  to  possess  a  body  able  to 
endure  fatigue,  instinct  with  magnetic  force  and 
physical  energy.  1  repeat,  then,  that  bodily  health 
is  the  foundation  of  all  rounded  self-culture,  all  in- 
tegral development.  1  fully  admit  the  power  of  the 
soul,  under  great  spiritual  and  moral  excitement,  to 
compel  a  weak  body  to  do  its  bidding.  This  is  one 
of  the  most  eminent  proofs  that  soul  is  the  king, 
and  body  its  subject.  A  great  soul  ma]/  inspire  a 
sick  body  with  strength;  but  if  the  body  were  well, 
it  would  obey  yet  more  promptly  and  effectually. 

1  do  not  sympathize  with  those  reformers  who 
say  that  we  are  always  to  blame  for  being  sick,  and 
that  if  we  obeyed  all  the  hygienic  laws  we  should 
be  always  well.  Some  persons  are  born  diseased, 
with  congenital  and  inherited  poison  in  their  blood; 
some  take  disease  from  the  air,  and  from  unavoida- 
ble exposure.  But,  no  doubt,  a  vast  amount  of  sick- 
ness conies  from  bad  living;  from  intemperance  in 
work,  in  eating  and  drinking;  from  breathing  bad 
air,  living  in  damp,  dark  homes  ;  from  bad  food, 
poor  clothing,  want  of  recreation  and  amusement. 
in  Xew  England  we  are  not  a  healthy  people.  We 
are,  to  be  sure,  free  from  the  scourge  of  the  Middle 
and  Western  States,  —  fever  and  ague  ;  nor  are  we  as 
liable  to  inflammatory  disease  as  in  other  places. 
Our  demon  is  consumption,  and  the  natural  preven- 


0  6  SEL  F-  C  i  ~L  Tl  'RE. 

tion  and  cure  for  consumption  is  pure  air,  and 
enough  of  it.  But  the  great  mass  of  our  people  shut 
out  the  sunshine,  shut  out  the  air,  shut  themselves 
up  during  our  long  winter  months  with  air-tight 
stoves  in  air-tight  rooms,  using  the  same  air  over 
and  over  again.  Ventilation  is  a  lost  art.  Xo  one 
knows  how  to  ventilate  a  public  building  or  a  rail- 
road car.  Along  the  shores  of  Maine,  where  the  air 
is  pure  and  balmy,  and  merely  to  breathe  it  is  like 
drinking  the  wine  of  life,  if  you  go  into  the  houses 
you  will  find  the  people  pale  and  sickly.  The  ex- 
planation is  the  air-tight  stove  and  the  indigestible 
food.  Whoever  will  teach  the  people  of  Xew  England 
the  advantages  of  good  food,  fresh  air,  and  sunshine, 
will  renew  the  physical  constitution  of  the  race. 

But  the  work  of  physical  degeneracy  is  begun  in 
our  schools.  We  put  a  crowd  of  little  children 
together  in  an  imperfectly  ventilated  room.  We 
task  their  immature  brains  with  from  five  to  eight 
hours  of  mental  application.  We  stimulate  then) 
by  a  system  of  prizes,  promotion,  and  praise.  We 
make  them  study  at  home,  in  the  evening,  by  lamp- 
light, after  having  been  confined  at  school  half  the 
day.  When  the  child's  natural  tendency  to  move 
about,  to  smile,  to  talk,  manifests  itself,  we  repress 
it  by  the  brutal  application  of  the  rod.  So  we  treat 
our  children,  and  wonder  at  the  mysterious  Provi- 
dence which  sends  them  disease  and  death,  while 
the  vagabond  newsboys,  half  clothed  and  half  fed, 
but  moving  about  in  the  open  air  all  day,  are  com- 
paratively well. 


TRAINING   AND   CARE    OF   THE   BODY.        57 

Some  years  ago,  I  was  placed  on  the  State  Board 
of  Education.  A  friend  told  me  that  the  health  of 
the  scholars  in  the  Normal  schools  was  suffering 
from  over-study.  Like  others,  I  refused  to  believe 
it  ;  like  others,  I  took  for  granted  that  the  system 
was  about  as  good  as  it  could  be.  At  last  my  per- 
tinacious friend  urged  on  me  so  strongly  that  it  was 
my  duty  to  look  into  it,  that  I  could  refuse  no 
longer.  Accordingly,  I  went  to  two  of  the  State 
Normal  schools,  in  each  of  them  called  all  the  pupils 
together  into  the  large  room,  and  said  that  I  wished 
to  talk  with  the  pupils  without  the  teachers  taking 
any  part  in  the  discussion.  I  then  proceeded  to  ask 
the  following  questions:  — 

1.  How  many  hours  do  you  study  out  of  school? 

2.  How  many  of  you  are  usually  well,  but  with 
occasional   headaches,  weariness,  and  sleeplessness? 

3.  How  many  are  perfectly  well? 

4.  How  many  have  a  good  appetite  ? 

5.  How  many  sleep  well  all  night  ? 

The  result  was  that,  in  both  schools,  the  majority 
studied  between  four  and  five  hours  out  of  school, 
beside  the  five  hours  in  school;  only  one-sixth  were 
perfectly  well ;  less  than  one-half  had  a  good  appe- 
tite for  their'  food  ;  while  about  two-thirds  to  three- 
fourths  slept  well.  On  these  facts  being  brought 
before  the  Board  of  Education,  they  voted  that  eight 
hours'  work,  including  all  the  time  in  school  and 
out,  should  be  the  maximum  allowed;  and  even 
this  is  a  great  cieal  too  much.     As  regards  younger 


58  SELF-CULTURE. 

children,  it  has  been  proved  by  carefully  collected 
facts,  presented  to  the  British  Parliament  by  Mr. 
Edwin  Chadwick,  that  children  working  on  half- 
time  (that  is,  studying  three  hours  a  day,  and  devot- 
ing the  rest  of  their  time  to  out-door  work)  really 
make  the  greatest  intellectual  progress  in  the  year. 
Walter  Scott  said  he  could  never  work  with  his 
brain  more  than  five  hours  a  day,  and  all  physicians 
of  standing,  without  exception,  agree  that  children 
ought  never  to  be  confined  more  than  an  hour  at  a 
time,  or  study  more  than  four  hours  a  day. 

Nervous  diseases,  also,  are  becoming  very  frequent 
in  New  England.  These  result,  probably,  in  a  great 
degree,  from  too  much  brain-work,  too  little  social 
reaction,  too  great  anxiety  and  care. 

If  a  healthy  body  contributes  to  the  health  of  the 
mind,  so,  also,  a  healthy  mind  keeps  the  body  well. 
Cheerfulness,  interest  in  life,  interest  in  our  work, 
enough  to  do,  without  haste  or  rest ;  pleasant  soci- 
ety, friendship,  —  these  react  favorably  on  the  body. 
The  haste  to  get  rich,  and  the  intense  struggles  of 
business  rivalry,  probably  destroy  as  many  lives  in 
America  every  year  as  are  lost  in  a  great  battle. 
Patience,  equanimity,  trust  in  Providence,  content- 
ment with  our  lot,  these  keep  the  body  from  disease. 
A  good  conscience  is  better  medicine  than  all  the 
druggists  can  supply. 

Again,  whatever  defiles  and  corrupts  the  body  is 
a  sin  against  God.  Intemperance  in  eating  and 
drinking,  licentiousness,  these  delil<J  the  temple  of 


TRALXLXG   AA'JJ    CARE    (>/■    /'///■:    BODY.        59 

Clod.  One  of  the  greatest  evils  of  our  time  and 
land  is  intemperance.  A  large  part  of  the  misery 
and  crime  in  our  community  comes  directly  from 
this  source,  and  all  the  influence  of  religion,  educa- 
tion, and  law  should  combine  to  deliver  the  com- 
munity from  this  frightful  scourge.  Every  day  we 
hear  of  some  poor  woman  beaten  to  death  by  a 
drunken  husband;  some  man  made  insane  by 
poisonous  liquor,  sold  him  by  those  whom  we  license. 
For  the  sake  of  a  few  dollars,  men  spend  their  lives 
in  making  and  selling  these  dreadful  poisons.  Self- 
protection  requires  that  society  shall  put  an  end  to 
this  evil.  How  this  shall  be  done  is  one  of  the 
most  difficult,  but  also  one  of  the  most  important, 
questions  of  the  time. 

There  is  another  form  of  sensuality  which  con- 
stantly endangers  the  health  and  peace  of  the  land, 
which  demands  our  best  wisdom  to  control.  I  fear 
that  our  community  is  not  aware  of  the  pains  taken 
to  corrupt  the  morals  of  our  children,  both  boys  and 
girls,  by  corrupt  exhibitions,  publications,  pictures. 
It  is  seriously  asserted  that  there  is,  in  every  room 
of  our  public  schools,  some  scholar  who  is  hired  by 
the  publishers  of  improper  photographs  and  books 
to  sell  them  among  his  companions.  Ignorance  of 
the  laws  of  life,  and  the  dangers  to  which  they  are 
exposed,  cause  our  children  to  be  led  astray.  Young 
girls  are  left  unprotected,  exposed  to  temptations  of 
which  they  know  nothing,  and  against  which  no  one 
has    warned    them.      The    amount    of   suffering  so 


60  SELF-CULTURE. 

caused,  of  families  filled  with  misery,  of  innocence 
misled,  is  far  greater  than  is  generally  known. 
Owing  to  the  disgrace  attending  such  evils,  they  are 
concealed.  We  apply  instruction  to  prevent  and 
cure  all  other  vices  and  sins ;  but  this  we  leave  to 
grow  in  darkness.  "What  we  need  is  to  have  our 
children  carefully  taught,  either  at  school  or  at 
home,  or  Loth,  the  laws  of  life  and  health,  and  the 
dangers  of  all  kinds  of  excesses.  Only  so  can  these 
miseries  be  abated  or  prevented. 

God  has  so  bound  society  together  that  if  one 
member  suffer,  all  suffer.  If  we  leave  the  poor  in 
their  alleys  exposed  to  disease,  that  disease  finds  its 
way  to  all  our  homes.  Year  after  year,  our  Board 
of  Health  has  told  us  that  the  tenement-houses  of 
Boston  are  a  disgrace  to  the  city.  There  are  twenty- 
seven  hundred  of  these  houses  in  Boston,  visited  by 
the  Board  of  Health,  many  of  which  are  left  by 
their  wealthy  owners  in  a  condition  which  creates 
disease  through  defective  drainage  and  dirt.  Another 
cause  of  disease  is  the  wholesale  adulteration  of 
almost  all  kinds  of  i'ood,  and  the  sale  of  provisions 
unfit  fur  human  use.  A  late  report  of  the  Board  of 
Health  told  us  that  there  was  scarcely  an  article  of 
food  or  drink  which  was  not  adulterated  by  some 
worthless  or  injurious  material.  One-thir.d  of  the 
manufacturers  of  the  candy  sold  to  children  had  put 
the  deadly  poison,  chromate  of  lead,  into  their  col- 
ored candies,  and  several  cases  were  reported  recently 
where  death   soon   ensued   from    innocently  eating 


TRAINING  AND    CARE    OF    THE   BODY.        01 

such  substances.  Out  of  forty  samples  of  colored 
candy  submitted  to  examination,  thirty-six  contained 
this  active  poison.  I  speak  of  all  these  evils  here, 
because  enlightened  public  opinion  is  the  only  power 
which  can  cure  them. 

But  we  glorify  God  with  our  body,  not  merely  by 
keeping  it  free  from  disease,  but  also  by  developing 
all  its  faculties.  Education  has  been  confined  too 
much  to  the  intellect.  "We  have  sought  to  disci- 
pline the  brain  to  remember,  compare,  deduce,  an- 
alyze, generalize  ; .  but  it  has  not  occurred  to  us  that 
the  body  is  as  capable  of  education  as  the  mind. 
Yet  we  see  in  special  cases  how  this  can  be  done. 
A  singer  trains  her  voice  to  express  exactly  every 
cadence  and  inflection  of  her  song ;  why  should  we 
not  learn  to  modulate  our  voices  to  an  equal  accu- 
racy and  delicacy  in  reading  and  speech  ?  Uncon- 
sciously every  educated  person  acquires  a  certain 
flexibility  and  refinement  of  utterance,  and  you  can 
tell  in  the  darkest  night  whether  two  persons  whom 
you  meet  are  rude  or  refined,  if  you  only  hear  the 
tones  of  their  voices  in  conversation.  But  why  not 
cultivate  the  power  of  speaking  well?  Bobert 
Houdin,  the  celebrated  French  juggler,  tells  us  in 
his  memoirs  that  in  educating  his  son  to  the  same 
business  he  made  him  walk  slowly  past  the  shop 
windows  in  Paris,  until  he  was  able  to  remember 
every  article  exhibited  in  a  window  from  once  going 
by.  This  shows  to  what  quickness  of  perception  the 
eye  can  be  trained.     There  might  be  such  an  educa- 


62  SELF-CUL  TUKE. 

tion  of  the  perceptive  organs  in  our  schools,  that 
young  children  should,  in  a  little  while,  be  able  to 
tell  by  their  eye  the  length  or  height  of  a  room,  or 
of  a  house,  tell  within  an  inch  the  size  of  a  table, 
tell  the  shades  of  color  in  a  bunch  of  flowers,  in 
skeins  of  worsted,  or  in  a  carpet ;  tell  the  weight  of 
an  object  by  holding  it  in  their  hand ;  tell  at  a 
glance  the  exact  number  of  objects  suddenly  shown 
and  removed,  just  as  they  now  are  taught  rapid 
processes  in  intellectual  arithmetic.  No  one,  in 
fact,  can  tell  how  far  the  perceptive  faculties  can  be 
educated,  because  no  systematic  attempt  has  ever 
been  made  to  educate  them. 

Every  organ  may  be  trained,  every  member. 
Paul  says,  if  the  foot  should  say  to  the  hand,  "  I 
am  not  of  the  body,  is  it  therefore  not  of  the  body?" 
We  shut  up  our  feet  in  tight  shoes,  and  so  prevent 
the  muscles  from  developing.  But  there  is  a  gen- 
tleman in  Paris  who  has  lost  his  arms,  who  uses  his 
feet  as  if  they  were  hands,  and  may  be  seen  in  the 
galleries  copying  pictures.  Only  one  nation  has 
ever  tried  to  develop  the  body  in  its  integrity.  The 
Greeks,  by  their  games  and  gymnastic  exercises, 
brought  out  the  force,  grace,  and  symmetry  of  the 
human  form,  and  their  sculptors  have  preserved 
these  types  in  immortal  marble.  These  are  the 
natural  forms  of  the  human  being.  Give  man  air, 
sun,  proper  food  and  clothing,  ample  and  varied  exer- 
cise, and  there  is  no  curve  of  grace  in  ancient  stat- 
uary which  would  not  be  reproduced  to-day. 


TRAINING   AND    CARE    OF   THE   BODY.        63 

The  miracles  performed  by  Christ  have  always 
seemed  to  me  prophetic.  They  show  us  what  man, 
when  he  reaches  his  perfect  state,  will  be  able  to 
perform.  Jesus  was  the  perfect  man,  sent  to  reveal 
to  us  man  as  well  as  God,  and  to  show  what  human- 
ity is  to  be  when  it  has  conquered  its  weakness, 
risen  above  its  sinfulness,  and  attained  its  full  de- 
velopment. Jesus  cured  disease  by  a  word  or  a 
touch.  He  thus  shows  that  the  soul  is  superior  to 
the  forces  of  external  nature,  master  of  the  body, 
and  that  the  laws  of  matter  are  flexible  before  the 
powers  of  the  mind  and  heart.  This  is  the  lesson 
of  his  miracles,  of  his  transfiguration,  of  his  resur- 
rection. "  Greater  works  than  these  shall  ye  do, 
because  I  go  to  my  Father."  What  we  call  miracle 
is  only  the  natural  supremacy  of  soul  over  body, 
the  prophecy  in  one  divinely  ordained  example,  in 
one  providential  person,  of  what  humanity,  in  the 
coming  centuries,  is  to  attain. 

While  a  healthy  body  makes  a  healthy  soul,  the 
reverse  is  still  more  true.  Mind  lifts  up,  purifies, 
sustains  the  body.  Mental  and  moral  activity  keep 
the  body  healthy,  strong,  and  young,  preserve  from 
decay,  and  renew  the  life.  As  a  rule,  those  who 
exercise  and  unfold  their  higher  nature  are  long- 
lived.     Wentworth  Higginson   made   out  a  list  of 

DO 

thirty  of  the  most  remarkable  preachers  of  the  last 
four  centuries.  It  contained  such  names  as  Luther, 
Melancthon,  Beza,  Knox,  Barrow,  South,  Jeremy 
Taylor,  Tillotson,  Paley,  Blair,  Priestley,  Massillon, 


04  SELF-CULTURE. 

Bossuet,  Fenelon,  Robert  Hall,  Chalmers,  Wesley, 
Charming.  lie  then  proceeded  to  find  the  average 
length  of  their  lives,  and  discovered  it  to  he  just 
sixty-nine  years.  The  life  and  activity  of  the  soul 
sustains  and  renews  the  body.  Consider  John  Wes- 
ley, with  his  perpetual  labors,  preaching  every 
morning  at  five  o'clock,  travelling  every  week  hun- 
dreds of  miles,  never  knowing  rest  or  leisure,  and 
living  till  eighty-eight,  in  full  possession  of  all  his 
faculties.  Dr.  Joseph  Priestley,  whom  Coleridge 
calls  "patriot  and  saint  and  sage,"  was  a  philosopher, 
an  inventor,  a  discoverer  in  science,  a  radical  in  the- 
ology, and  he  wrote  more  than  eighty  books.  He 
begun  life  a  sickly  child,  and  lived  to  be  seventy- 
one.  And,  at  fifty-four,  he  said,  "  So  far  from  suffer- 
ing from  application  to  study,  I  have  found  my 
health  steadily  improve  from  the  age  of  eighteen  to 
the  present  time." 

In  our  day  gymnastic  exercises  for  young  men 
have  become  a  fashion,  and  1  am  glad  of  it.  But 
devotion  to  mere  muscular  development  in  rowing, 
ball-playing,  lifting  weights,  &c,  is  not  integral 
education.  The  mind  and  heart  and  soul  must  be 
exercised  also,  and  more  than  the  muscles,  if  you 
wish  to  keep  the  whole  man  in  health.  Health  de- 
scends into  the  body  from  the  soul,  though  it  may 
also  ascend  in  the  opposite  direction.  We  must  not 
rush  into  one  error  while  avoiding  another,  and  be- 
cause bodily  exercise  has  been  neglected  think  that 
it  will  make  up  for  every  other  exercise.  Bodily 
exercise,  without  mental,  profiteth  little. 


TRAINING   AND    CARE    OF    THE   BODY.        Of) 

The  moral  and  conclusion  of  what  we  have  said  is 
this:  We  shall  not  get  to  heaven  by  ill-using  and 
ill-treating  the  body,  as  the  old  saints  hoped  to  do. 
Xor  must  we  neglect  it,  and  think  it  of  no  conse- 
quence compared  with  the  mind.  We  owe  to  our 
body,  the  wonderful  temple  of  the  soul,  care,  cul- 
ture, temperate  usage,  due  training,  pure,  virtuous 
treatment.  We  must  not  defile  it  with  vice,  nor 
brutify  it  by  sensual  indulgence,  but  treat  it  as  a 
divine  work,  to  be  reverenced  and  cultivated,  like 
every  other  talent.  The  body  must  have  its  due 
exercise,  food,  sleep,  because  it  is  the  temple  of  the 
soul.  The  body  is  to  be  raised  by  the  power  of  Chris- 
tianity to  a  higher  condition,  no  less  than  the  soul. 
There  is  a  natural  body  and  a  spiritual  body,  a  ter- 
restrial and  a  celestial  body.  Even  in  this  life  we 
often  see  the  spiritual  body  shining  through  the 
natural  one.  When  the  soul  is  active  with  thought, 
with  noble  purpose,  with  love,  it  transfigures  the 
body,  and  "  o'er-informs  its  tenement  of  clay."  In 
an  infant's  smile  of  pure  joy,  in  the  expression  of 
generous,  noble  purpose  in  youth,  in  the  sweet 
patience  which  sits  serene  on  the  brow  of  the  suffer- 
ing saint,  we  see,  even  here,  the  body  which  is  to  be. 
Milton,  in  his  poem  concerning  the  "  aidless,  inno- 
cent lady,"  tells  us  :  — 

"  That,  when  a  soul  is  found  sincerely  pure, 
A  thousand  liveried  angels  lackey  her, 
Driving  far  off  each  thing  of  sin  and  guilt, 
And,  in  clear  dream  and  solemn  vision, 


6  6  SEL  F-  C I TL  Tl  TRE. 

Tell  her  of  things  that  no  gross  ear  can  hear  ; 
Till  oft  converse  with  heavenly  habitants 
Begins  to  cast  a  beam  on  the  outward  shape, 
The  unpolluted  temple  of  the  soul, 
And  turn  it  by  degrees  to  the  soul's  essence, 
Till  all  be  made  immortal." 

To  conclude,  Montaigne  expresses  the  sum  of  it 
all  when  he  says,  "  Our  work  is  not  to  train  a  soul 
by  itself  alone,  nor  a  body  by  itself  alone,  but  to 
train  a  man ;  and  in  man  soul  and  body  can  never 
be  divided." 

So  many  books  have  been  written  on  the  care  of 
the  health,  and  so  much  attention  has  been  called 
to  hygienics  within  a  few  years,  that  it  is  not  nec- 
essary here  to  go  into  details.  Let  us  briefly  sum- 
marize the  substance  of  all  in  the  following  rules  : 

Take  exercise  every  day,  in  the  open  air  if  possi- 
ble, and  make  it  a  recreation,  and  not  merely  a  duty. 
Eat  wholesome  food.  Drink  pure  water.  Let  your 
house  and  room  be  well  ventilated.  Take  time 
enough  for  sleep.     Do  not  worry. 

Watch  yourself,  but  not  too  closely,  to  find  what 
exercise,  air,  diet,  &c,  agrees  with  you.  No  man 
can  be  a  rule  for  another.  One  man  can  eat  all 
things ;  another,  who  is  weak,  can  only  eat  herbs. 
Experience,  in  this  regard,  is  better  than  rules. 

If  you  consult  a  physician,  it  is  better  to  do  it  be- 
fore you  are  unwell  than  later.  Prophylactics  are 
better  than  therapeutics. 

The  time  will  come,  let  us  hope,  when  all  boys 


TRAINING   AND    CARE    OF   THE   BODY.        0 , 

will  be  taught  the  use  of  tools,  and  all  girls  the 
principles  of  cooking.  A  carpenter's  bench  and 
tools  in  a  house  will  furnish  as  good  exercise  as 
dumb-bells.  And  is  it  not  a  little  discreditable  to  a 
well-educated  man  to  have  to  send  for  a  mechanic 
when  anything  is  out  of  order  in  the  house.  Ou^ht 
we  not  to  be  able  to  ease  a  door,  make  a  shelf,  stop 
a  leak  in  a  leaden  pipe,  milk  a  cow,  harness  our  own 
horse.  An  hour  spent  in  such  work  about  the  house 
or  stable  every  day  would  not  only  exercise  the  body, 
but  relieve  the  tension  of  a  student's  brain. 

Consider  this :  No  carpenter  will  go  to  his  work 
without  seeing  that  his  chest  of  tools  is  in  good  or- 
der. The  musician  examines  his  instrument  every 
day  to  keep  it  in  tune.  We  have  our  horses  carefully 
groomed.  Let  us  do  as  much,  at  least,  as  this  for  our 
own  body.  That  is  our  wonderful  box  of  tools,  — 
our  organ  with  thousands  of  pipes.  It  has,  no  doubt, 
a  remarkable  power  of  self-recovery,  of  repairing  its 
own  lesions.  But  do  not  try  it  too  much.  It  is  the 
faithful  servant  of  the  mind  :  but  let  the  mind  treat 
its  servant  tenderly  and  wisely. 

The  body  constantly  acts  on  the  mind :  this  is 
now  universally  recognized.  It  is  not  as  often 
noticed  how  the  mind  acts  on  the  body.  A  mind 
strengthened  by  truth  and  a  determined  purpose 
will  support  a  feeble  body,  and  enable  it  to  do  won- 
ders. Mental  excitement  often  cures  bodily  disease. 
There  are  authentic  cases  of  persons  given  over  by 
their  physicians,  who  resisted  death  and  saved  t^eir 


( i  8  SELF-Ci  'L  TURK. 

lives  by  a  strong  determination  not  to  die.  Anyin- 
iluence  which  rouses  the  mind  to  action  will  often 
curt'  the  body.  One  day  we  shall  have  a  mind-cure 
hospital,  where  bodily  disease  will  be  relieved  by 
applications  to  the  mind.  Meantime,  how  much  can 
be  done  for  invalids  by  visits  from  cheerful,  bright, 
entertaining  visitors,  —  by  religious  influences  which 
inspire  faitli  and  hope,  not  doubt  and  fear.  AVhat- 
ever  takes  the  mind  out  of  itself,  causes  it  to  look 
up,  interests  it  in  great  truths,  helps  the  body  too. 
Hospitals  for  invalids,  especially  for  the  insane, 
should  be  carefully  constructed  on  the  principle  of 
surrounding  the  patient  with  sunshine  and  beauty, 
and  removing  all  harsh  sights  and  sounds.  Then, 
let  those  radiant  natures,  to  whom  God  has  given 
the  power  to  charm  and  inspire,  employ  this  gift 
(so  often  wasted  on  circles  which  have  everything 
else)  in  visiting  the  depressed  and  the  forlorn,  the 
sick  and  the  weak,  —  and  they  will  wonder  at  the 
good  they  can  do. 


III. 


THE    USE    OF    TIME. 


in. 

THE  USE   OF   TIME. 


FEW  of  the  facts  of  our  life  are  more  mysterious 
and  inexplicable,  more  paradoxical  and  con- 
tradictory, than  the  commonest  and  simplest  of  all, 
—  that  is,  the  progress  of  time.  Time  is  the  most 
rigid,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most  elastic,  of  all 
tilings.  Time  is  a  stream  which  bears  all  creatures 
on  at  the  same  rate.  All  beings  who  live  on  the 
surface  of  the  earth  are  living  in  the  same  day  of 
the  same  month  and  year.  Time  and  events  happen 
alike  to  all.  No  one  can  hold  back  longer  than  the 
rest ;  no  one  can  hurry  forward  so  as  to  get  a  month, 
a  day,  an  hour,  a  minute,  a  second,  in  advance  of 
the  rest.  Why  should  it  not  be  so  ?  Why  should 
not  sluggishness  of  hand  and  laziness  of  mind  drop 
back,  and  be  left  a  month  or  a  year  behind  in  time, 
as  they  would  be  left  a  mile  or  ten  miles  behind  in 
space  ?  Why  should  not  genius  and  energy  get  on 
faster,  and  arrive  sooner  ?  But  no !  We  are  all 
immersed  in  the  same  now.  The  same  moment  ar- 
rives at  once  to  all  the  thousand  millions  of  beings 


72  SELF-  CUL  TURK. 

on  the  earth.  Ah,  if  we  could  only  go  back  when 
we  choose,  and  live  the  past  over  again  !  What  a 
gift,  more  wonderful  than  that  imagined  in  any  fairy 
story,  this  would  be  !  If  some  angel  should  come, 
and  say  you  may  be  as  you  were  a  year  ago,  before 
that  fatal  crime  was  committed,  that  terrible  mistake 
made ;  before  that  opportunity  came  which  you 
threw  away  and  lost  forever ;  before  that  dear  friend 
was  taken  from  you  by  death,  so  that  you  could 
show  him  the  love  you  felt  in  your  heart,  but  ne- 
glected to  manifest  in  action  !  If  in  the  light  of 
those  results,  of  that  experience,  which  is  the  divine 
judgment  here  on  all  human  actions,  we  could  begin 
our  lives  anew ! 

No.  The  moment  which  has  not  yet  come  is  per- 
fectly fluid.  It  is  open  to  us  all.  We  can  put  into 
it  what  we  please.  It  arrives  out  of  the  future  a 
shadowy  possibility  ;  it  crystallizes  in  that  infinites- 
imal moment  we  call  the  present,  around  whatever 
we  think,  or  feel,  or  say,  or  do,  and  is  gone  forever, 
unalterable,  holding  in  its  adamantine  grasp  the 
changeable,  irrecoverable  action.  What  is  done, 
is  done  forever  ;  what  is  omitted,  is  omitted  for- 
ever. The  good  action  is  sealed  up,  and  made 
immortal ;  the  bad  action  is  sealed  up,  and  can 
never  be  recalled,  though  we  seek  to  repent  of  it 
diligently,  and  with  tears.  No  awful  fate,  no  tre- 
mendous doom,  no  iron  necessity,  can  compare  with 
this  relentless  grasp  of  Time,  which  seizes  and  re- 
tains, inexorable,  unforgiving,  all  that  passes  into  its 


THE    USE    OF    TIME.  73 

irresistible  embrace.  So  that  time,  of  all  things  the 
most  airy  and  impalpable  before  it  comes,  seems  to 
be  of  all  tilings  the  most  solid  and  substantial  when 
it  lias  gone  by. 

Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  this  same  element  of  time 
is  a  very  flexible  and  elastic  material.  How  it 
stretches  out  to  some  persons  '.  How  much  more  a 
day,  an  hour,  is  to  one  person  than  to  another  !  How 
much  more  some  people  put  into  a  month  or  a  year 
than  others  do  !  Yes,  how  much  more  to  each  of  us 
are  our  few  hours  of  fiery  inspiration  and  insight 
than  the  months  in  which  we  hammer  mechanically 
this  experience  into  opinion  on  the  anvils  of  logic  ! 
How  much  more  we  live  in  the  deep,  momentary 
experiences  of  faith,  generosity,  love,  than  in  the 
dreary  years  of  routine  which  follow  them  !  We 
see  then  what  is  meant  by  redeeming  time.  It  is  to 
till  the  hours  full  of  the  richest  freight ;  to  fill  them 
with  the  life  of  thought,  feeling,  action,  as  they 
pass  by. 

It  is  to  live  so  as  to  be  glad,  not  sad,  when  we 
look  back.  It  is  to  conquer  in  the  great  struggle 
with  the  devil,  with  incarnate  evil,  and  to  have  the 
sentence  pronounced  by  the  Ivhadamanthine  voice 
of  the  past,  —  Well  done  !  This  is  the  safety  vault 
into  which  we  can  put  our  treasure,  sure  that  no 
thieves  can  break  in  and  steal.  One  moment  of 
self-conquest,  one  good  action  really  done,  one  gen- 
erous deed  actually  performed,  yes,  one  effort  to  do 
right  really  made,  has  the  seal  of  time  put  on  it,  and 


74  SELF-Cl  'L  TURK. 

no  power  in  heaven  nor  all  the  fires  of  hell  can 
melt  that  wax  from  the  eternal  bond.  This  last 
year,  one  man  has  made  a  fortune,  and  invested  it 
in  the  best  securities,  —  in  mortgages,  in  houses,  in 
railroads.  But  houses  burn ;  thieves  steal  your 
bonds ;  robbers  of  a  worse  kind,  who  walk  about 
State  Street  and  Wall  Street  with  unblushing  faces, 
devour  the  property  of  the  stockholders  in  a  sham 
corporation.  Another  man  has  given  his  wealth  for 
a  good  object,  and  that  is  safe  forever ;  no  thief  can 
touch  it,  and  no  railroad  president  or  bank  teller 
can  ever  run  away  with  that  money. 

What  a  difference  between  two  lives,  equally 
long,  of  which  one  has  been  wasted,  the  other  re- 
deemed !  One  has  gone  on  without  a  purpose  or 
aim ;  the  other,  steadily  directed  to  some  noble 
object ;  the  one,  empty  of  love,  thought,  action  ;  the 
other,  crowded  with  hours  of  glorious  life ;  the  one, 
in  which,  as  we  look  back,  we  can  see  nothing  but 
eating  and  sleeping,  and  mechanical,  empty  labor ; 
in  the  other,  the  lowest  toil  made  bright  by  a  good 
and  generous  purpose,  the  humblest  lot  gilded  and 
glorified  by  high  thoughts  and  large  loves.  This  is 
the  real  everlasting  punishment,  —  to  remember  the 
irrevocable  past.  Just  as  far  as  we  have  wasted 
our  time  we  go  into  everlasting  punishment,  for 
what  shall  ever  annihilate  the  black  record  of  the 
evil  we  have  done  ?  ]  suppose  that  even  the  most 
blessed  saint  must  sometimes  go  into  this  kind 
of  everlasting  punishment.     And  just  as  far  as  we 


TJIE    USE    OF   TIME.  Jo 

have  redeemed  time  we  go  into  everlasting  bliss ;  for 
the  record  of  good  is  equally  indestructible.     One 

man  looks  back  —  yes,  we  all  look  back  sometimes 
—  with  a  sense  of  utter  loss,  like  that  of  Coleridge. 
Coleridge,  in  one  of  the  most  pathetic  passages  in 
English  literature,  speaks  of  the 

';  Sense  of  past  youth,  and  manhood  come  —  in  vain  ! 
And  genius  given  and  knowledge  won  —  in  vain  ! 
And  all  that  I  have  culled  in  wood-walks  wild, 
And  all  that  patient  toil  has  reared,  and  all 
Commune  with  thee  lias  opened  out  —  but  flowers 
Strewed  on  my  hearse,  and  scattered  on  my  bier, 
In  the  same  coffin,  for  the  self-same  grave." 

And  sometimes  we  look  back,  thinking  of  one 
good  act  done,  one  great  truth  seen,  one  deep  affec- 
tion experienced;  and  then  we  can  use  the  lofty 
strain  of  Dryden,  in  his  noble  translation  of  Horace, 
and  say :  — 

"  Happy  the  man,  and  happy  he  alone, 
He  who  can  call  the  hour  his  own, 
He  who,  secure  within,  can  say, 
'To-mormw  do  thy  worst,  fur  I  have  lived  to-day! 
Be  fail',  or  foul,  or  rain,  or  shine, 
The  joy  I  have  possessed,  in  spite  of  Fate,  is  mine  ! 
Not  heaven  itself  upon  the  past  has  power  ; 
For  what  has  been  has  been,  and  I  have  had  my  hour.''' 

Life  becomes  solemn  enough  when  we  look  at  it 
from  this  point  of  view.  Tt  becomes  vastly  more 
solemn  than  death ;  for  we  are  not  responsible  for 
dying:  we  are  responsible  for  living.     Why  talk  of 


,  G  SELF-CULTURE. 

a  judgment  to  come  on  some  great  day  in  the  future, 
when  every  day  is  a  day  of  judgment;  when  every 
moment,  as  it  goes  by,  judges  us  ;  when  the  act  we 
put  into  it  is  carved  into  this  terrible  past  in  letters 
more  lasting  than  those  which  have  resisted  for  live 
thousand  years  the  sands  and  the  revolutions  of 
Egypt.  Carved  on  the  granite  there,  you  may  read 
the  actions  done  fifty  centuries  ago ;  you  may  see 
the  task-masters,  by  the  command  of  the  great 
Uameses,  beating  the  poor  Hebrew  slaves  at  their 
work  of  building  his  cities.  Those  stones  may 
decay  at  last,  and  that  record  be  lost.  But  not  an 
idle  word,  not  an  unkind  word  that  we  say,  not  a 
moment  of  our  life,  but  gives  an  account  of  itself  in 
the  imperishable  record  of  the  past. 

As  regards  self-culture,  all  depends  on  the  use  of 
time.  All  those  who  have  unfolded  great  powers 
have  been  hard  workers.  Genius  itself  is  nothing 
but  an  immense  power  of  work.  It  is  the  power  of 
immersing  one's  self  in  work,  but  making  it  all  play 
and  joy  by  the  quantity  of  life  put  into  it.  Genius 
always  "  redeems  the  time." 

There  were  four  men  who  lived  during  the  last 
century,  who  all  lived  to  be  very  old,  whose  lives 
were  contemporaneous  during  the  largest  part  of  the 
period  from  1700  to  1800,  who  were  different  in 
many  respects,  but  who  were  all  alike  in  this  power 
of  turning  time  into  thought  and  action.  They 
were  Swedenborg,  Voltaire,  Wesley,  and  Franklin. 
Kwedenborg  died    in    1771'.  acjed    ciLihtv-four ;  Vol- 


77 IE    USE    OF   77 ME.  77 

taire  died  in  1778,  also  aged  eighty-four ;  Franklin 
died  in  1790,  also  aged  eighty-four;  "Wesley  died  in 
1701,  aged  eighty-eight.  Perhaps  no  four  men  of 
the  century  exercised  a  greater  influence  on  the  age 
than  these.  Swedenborg's  thought  has  been  slowly 
filtering  into  philosophy  and  theology,  spiritualizing 
both.  To  him,  the  whole  world,  both  in  this  life 
and  the  life  to  come,  is  a  shining  web  of  divine 
laws,  —  God  descending  into  nature,  into  the  soul, 
into  the  body,  and  making  everything  divine.  His 
thought,  so  subtle  and  so  deep,  is  gradually  conquer- 
ing the  materialism  of  philosophy  and  theology,  and 
so  bringing  down  what  he  called  the  Xew  Jerusalem, 
or  the  sight  of  divine  truth  incarnate  in  all  actual 
facts  and  laws.  But  what  a  vast  amount  of  thought 
and  study  ;  what  patient  labor  on  works  which  no 
one  in  that  day,  and  but  few  even  in  ours,  have 
cared  to  read  ;  what  entire  confidence  in  the  power 
of  truth  ;  what  fidelity  to  his  thought,  persistency  in 
his  purpose,  cool  ardor,  patient  energy,  marked  the 
life  of  the  solitary  thinker!  He  was  the  most 
lonely  man  on  the  earth  in  his  day  ;  hardly  a  soul 
sympathized  with  him,  or  understood  him.  Yet  he 
worked  on.  without  haste  or  rest,  an  incarnation  of 
thought,  sure  that  somewhere  men  would  be  found 
to  read  and  understand  what  God  told  him  to  say. 
Surely  he  "redeemed  the  time." 

How  different  was  Voltaire  !  The  man  of  society, 
the  man  of  the  world,  the  man  who  wrote  for  the 
day  and  hour,  —  whose   every  book  and  pamphlet 


78  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

had  an  immediate  answer  and  welcome  ;  the  critic, 
the  wit,  the  superficial  but  acute  thinker  on  all 
subjects  under  heaven,  but  who  seldom  lifted  his 
eyes  to  the  heaven  itself;  the  man  from  whose  soul 
religious  sentiment  seemed  to  have  been  eliminated, 
in  whose  organization  reverence  was  omitted.  lie 
also  did  his  work,  —  to  expose  shams,  to  dethrone 
superstitions,  to  attack  hoary  abuses,  to  claim  for 
man  justice,  freedom,  opportunity.  He  worked,  not 
by  faith,  but  by  sight,  in  the  present  moment,  but 
with  indefatigable  energy,  redeeming  the  time.  And 
if,  as  the  preacher  says,  "  there  is  a  time  for  every- 
thing," that  time  was  certainly  the  time  for  Voltaire, 
when  the  world  was  so  full  of  evils  and  abuses,  which 
needed  such  stinging  scorn  as  his  for  their  correc- 
tion. The  pulpit  has  used  Voltaire  only  as  the 
type  of  the  worst  unbelief  and  sin.  But  do  him  this 
justice,  he  put  his  whole  soul  into  his  rather  barren 
work  of  destruction.  It  was  the  best  he  knew,  and 
he  did  it.     And  lie  did  it  well. 

How  different  again,  both  from  Swedenborg  and 
Voltaire,  was  Wesley !  No  mystic  like  Sweden- 
borg, but  with  an  intense  practical  desire  to  turn  all 
the  doctrinal  truth  he  saw  into  instant  life,  he  made 
the  new  heavens  and  earth  in  England  of  which  the 
Northern  sage  dreamed.  No  man  ever  so  fully  be- 
lieved that  "now  is  the  day  of  salvation"  as  John 
Wesley.  Xo  man  ever  went  so  entirely  out  of  the 
religion  of  form,  doctrine,  and  ceremony,  into  that  of 
life,  as  he.     His  nrofoundest   conviction  was  this  : 


THE    USE    OF   TIME.  79 

that  no  human  being  lived  on  earth  so  had  or  base, 
so  stupid  or  worldly,  so  utterly  corrupt  and  worth- 
less, but  that,  if  he  could  believe  it,  God  was  ready 
to  kindle  in  his  soul  a  fire  of  love  which  would 
wholly  consume  this  evil.  His  business  was  to 
make  men  believe  it,  For  this  faith  he  lived.  In 
tins  faith  he  worked,  redeeming  the  time.  He  saw 
the  dead  in  sin  coming  to  life  all  around  him,  he 
passed  his  happy  years  in  this  divinest  of  labors ; 
he  died  a  soldier  with  his  armor  on,  having  done  a 
work  which  neither  God  nor  man  can  ever  willingly 
let  die. 

And  now  look  at  the  fourth  whom  I  have  named, 
Dr.  Franklin,  —  differing  from  the  three,  with  none  of 
the  mysticism  of  Swedenborg  in  his  nature,  yet  with 
none  of  the  sneering  scepticism  of  Voltaire.  A  prac- 
tical man,  bent  on  doing  work,  —  not  living,  like 
Voltaire,  for  literary  success,  not  feeding  on  flattery 
and  popular  applause,  lie  had  also  his  share  of 
hard  trial  and  opposition,  and  lonely  struggle.  But 
he  rose  out  of  it,  higher  and  higher,  by  the  steady 
strength  with  which  he  did  his  work,  —  plucking  the 
lightning  from  the  clouds,  and  the  sceptre  of  Amer- 
ica from  the  hand  of  obstinate,  stupid,  conscientious 
(ieorge  the  Third.  "When  he  stood  before  the  Eng- 
lish Lords  in  Council,  the  object  of  abuse  and  ridi- 
cule;  when  he  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  glittering 
court  of  France,  the  object  of  praise  and  admira- 
tion ;  when  he  stood  in  the  American  Congress,  with 
his  calm    good   sense    directing    its   counsels ;    and 


SO  SELF-CULTURE. 

when  lie  tried  experiments  with  his  kite  and  his 
key,  —  he  was  still  the  faithful  servant  of  his  highest 
thought,  he  also  was  "  redeeming  the  time,"  and  he 
redeemed  it  well. 

We  see  then  how  it  is.  We  see,  by  these  exam- 
ples, that  if  a  man  will  he  faithful  to  his  highest 
conviction,  to  the  best  thought  which  God  gives 
him  to  say,  the  best  act  given  him  to  do,  he  will 
change  time  into  life.  He  will  bring  forth  fruit  in 
youth,  and  in  age  will  be  still  green  and  flourishing, 
like  all  the  lour  men  I  have  named.  This  is  the 
first  condition,  then,  of  making  the  most  of  time, 
that  we  shall  be  always  true  to  our  best  thought, 
that  we  shall  do  with  our  might  whatever  our  hand 
finds  to  do.  We  must  understand  the  value  of  the 
present  moment.  ,  We  must  not  spend  our  days  in 
grieving  over  the  past,  but  forget  the  things  that  are 
behind.  We  must  not  look  with  anxiety  or  fear  to 
the  future,  but  let  to-morrow  take  thought  for  the 
things  of  itself.  On  this  point  philosophy  and 
Christianity  are  at  one.  Jesus  says,  "  Take  no 
thought  for  the  morrow,"  and  Horace,  the  epicu- 
rean, says  the  same.  "  What  may  happen  to-morrow, 
do  not  inquire,  but  whatever  Fortune  brings  to-day 
count  as  clear  gain." 

Yes ;  time  may  be  kept.  Those  who  have 
wrought  one  hour  in  a  sincere  fulness  of  life  may 
accomplish  as  much  as  long  years  of  common  toil. 
Therefore,  all  that  we  said  at  the  beginning  of  this 
lecture  of   the   inflexible   and    unchanging    past    is 


THE    ISl:    OF    TIME.  81. 

indeed  true.  But  it  is  also  true  that  we  who  know 
how  much  of  time  we  have  wasted,  may  begin  to 
work  now  in  such  a  spirit  that  we  may  redeem  our 
past  years  from  their  emptiness  by  the  overflow  of 
our  present  fulness.  So  it  sometimes  happens  that 
a  single  bright  and  generous  act  serves  to  atone  for 
the  abuse  of  years.  So,  in  what  is  perhaps  the  best 
story  of  Dickens,  the  man  of  wasted  life  gave  him- 
self to  die  in  the  place  of  another  in  the  Reign  of 
Terror,  and  so  by  a  sunset  of  glory  and  purity  gilded 
the  clouds  of  his  dark  and  stormy  day. 

John  Newton,  friend  of  the  poet  Cowper,  author 
of  some  of  the  Gluey  hymns,  led  a  wild  and  troubled 
youth,  lie  deserted  from  an  English  man-of-war ; 
was  caught,  Hogged,  and  degraded  ;  commanded  an 
African  slave-trader  during  four  years,  during  all 
which  time,  he  says,  "  he  never  had  the  least  scru- 
ples as  to  its  lawfulness."'  But  who  thinks  of 
that  evil  career,  obliterated  and  swallowed  up  as 
it  was  by  his  long  subsequent  life  of  devoted  use- 
fulness \ 

But  while  we  value  every  hour  of  life,  it  is  impor- 
tant also  to  remember  that  there  is  time  enough  for 
all  that  is  to  be  done.  The  first  rule  is  to  do  every- 
thing with  our  might.  The  second  rule  is  not  to 
hurry.  It  is  better  to  do  a  single  thing  as  well  as 
we  can,  than  to  do  a  great  many  things  imperfectly. 
It  is  better  to  read  one  good  book  thoroughly,  than 
a  great  many  superficially.  I  recollect  hearing  of  a 
young  man  who  thought  of  preparing  himself  for 

6 


8  2  SEL  F-  CUL  TL  RE. 

the  ministry,  a  farmer's  son,  with  only  a  common- 
school  education,  who  came  to  a  minister  and  asked 
for  some  book  to  study  in  his  leisure  hours.  The 
minister  gave  him  "Locke  on  the  Understanding." 
At  the  end  of  six  months,  he  told  his  friend  that  he 
was  discouraged  by  his  own  stupidity,  for  he  had 
not  half  read  it.  At  the  end  of  twelve  months,  he 
brought  it  back,  and  said,  "I  can  never  be  a  student, 
for  it  has  taken  me  a  whole  year  to  read  this  book." 
But,  on  examination,  it  was  found  he  knew  everything 
in  the  book  perfectly,  and  his  friend  told  him  that 
to  read  one  book  thus  was  to  be  a  scholar.  That 
would  help  him  as  long  as  he  lived. 

As  I  look  back  and  remember  the  books  I  have 
read,  I  find  those  that  have  done  my  mind  the  most 
good  are  not  those  I  have  gone  over  superficially, 
but  those  which  1  have  eaten  and  drunk,  and  made 
a  part  of  myself.  It  is  an  old  saying,  that  the  most 
terrible  thinker  and  scholar  is  the  man  of  one  book, 
homo  unius  libri.  Let  a  person  know  all  about  the 
Bible,  let  him  know  all  of  Shakspeare,  or  let  him 
be  perfectly  familiar  with  the  best  of  Lord  Bacon's 
writings,  or  of  Leibnitz,  or  of  Swedenborg,  or  of 
Plato,  or  Dante,  or  Goethe,  —  any  one  of  them,  and 
he  will  be  a  highly  accomplished  man.  But  we 
waste  our  time  doing  too  many  things,  reading  too 
many  books,  seeing  too  many  people,  talking  too 
much.  Therefore  we  do  nothing  well,  read  nothing 
thoroughly,  know  no  one  really,  say  nothing  that 
is  worth  hearing.     Let  us  write  in  our  souls  this 


7'///-;    USE    OF    TIME.  8',] 

maxim,  —  quality,  not  quantity,  never  hurry  ;  take 
time  to  do  what  you  ought  to  do  as  well  as  you  can 
do  it.     That  is  the  only  way  to  take  time. 

Much  time  is  wasted  in  schools,  academies,  and 
colleges,  by  wrong  methods.  In  my  youth,  both  at 
school  and  in  college  much  time  was  lost  by  the 
recitations.  In  college  we  had  three  recitations, 
each  day,  of  each  division ;  each  lasting  an  hour. 
Thus  we  spent  three  precious  hours  every  day  in 
hearing  other  young  men  recite,  more  or  less  badly, 
what  we  had  spent  already  some  hours  in  studying 
ourselves.  If  we  had  learned  the  lesson  properly, 
we  could  learn  nothing  more  by  hearing  it  recited 
by  others.  If  the  teacher  had  explained  or  illus- 
trated the  difficult  passages,  that  would  have  been  an 
advantage  ;  but  in  those  days  he  regarded  it  as  his 
sole  business  to  hear  the  recitation,  and  to  mark  on 
a  paper  by  his  side  the  degree  of  accuracy  attained 
by  each  scholar.  This  took  his  whole  time.  A 
better  method  has  been  introduced  in  some  places. 
Teachers  now  have  learned  that  it  is  their  business 
to  teach,  —  a  fact  of  which,  in  those  days,  they 
seemed  wholly  unaware.  I  have  known  teachers 
of  the  better  sort,  who  would  not  allow  a  class  to  go 
through  an  Algebra  or  Geometry  without  making 
sure  that  ever)/  one  of  the  class  understood  everything 
in  the  boo?:.  That  was  teaching.  Eapid  progress  is 
made  by  the  help  of  a  teacher  who  is  ready  to  assist 
the  pupils  over  diflicult  places,  and  interest  them  in 
what  is  wonderful,  remarkable,  beautiful  in  the  sci- 
ence or  the  book. 


84  SELF-CUL  TL  'RE. 

In  the  study  of  languages  much  time  is  wasted 
by  insisting  on  too  much  grammar  and  dictionary. 
Instead  of  the  dictionary,  students  should  use 
translations  or  interlined  text-books.  The  gram- 
mar should  lie  near  at  hand,  to  be  consulted  while 
translating,  but  should  not  be  committed  to  mem- 
ory. AH  pedants  will  cry  out  against  such  sugges- 
tions; but  I  have  on  my  side  the  wisest  writers  on 
education,  such  as  Milton,  Locke,  Montaigne,  and 
a  multitude  of  others.  In  Milton's  Prose  Works 
there  is  a  Latin  Grammar  in  about  twelve  pages, 
which  he  declares  enough  for  practical  purposes 
in  learning  Latin ;  and  Milton  was  the  great 
Latin  scholar  of  his  day.  Locke,  in  his  treatise 
on  Education,  advises  that,  in  teaching  Latin,  no 
grammar  be  used  at  all,  but  to  have  a  teacher 
able  to  teach  Latin  by  conversation,  without  the 
perplexity  of  rules,  just  as  a  child  learns  his 
own  language.  "  For,"  says  Locke,  "  if  you  will 
consider  it,  Latin  is  no  more  unknown  to  a  child 
than  English  is,  when  he  comes  into  the  world. 
And  yet  he  learns  English  without  master,  rule,  or 
grammar."  But  Locke  recommends,  when  the  right 
person  cannot  be  found  to  teach  Latin  by  talking, 
as  the  next  best  method  to  use  an  interlined  trans- 
lation ;  and  in  this  case  it  may  be  necessary,  he  adds, 
to  learn  the  formation  of  verbs,  and  the  declension 
of  nouns  and  pronouns. 

But  the  chief  rule  for  saving  time  in  study, 
is    to    study    only    what    interests    the    mind,    and 


THE    USE    OF   TIME.  85 

when  the  mind  is  interested.  Time  is  wasted  in 
dawdling  over  studies  into  which  we  put  no  heart. 
This  also  the  sagacious  Locke  constantly  dwells 
upon;  as  do  other  writers  of  insight.  Thus  Her- 
bert Spencer  insists,  as  a  fundamental  principle, 
that  instruction  must  be  always  made  interesting. 
"  Nature,"  he  says,  "  has  made  the  healthful  exer- 
cise of  our  faculties,  both  of  body  and  mind,  pleasur- 
able." He  adds  that  with  all,  except  the  most 
complex,  which  come  into  activity  the  last,  "  the 
immediate  gratification  consecpient  on  activity  is 
the  normal  stimulus."  The  method  of  study  which 
produces  delight  is  proved,  he  says,  by  all  tests,  to 
be  the  true  one. 

Of  this  we  may  be  sure,  that  every  method  which 
can  be  devised  to  make  study  interesting,  saves  time 
to  the  student. 

"  I  would  fain,"  says  Locke,  "  have  any  one  name 
to  me  that  tongue  that  any  one  can  learn  or  speak 
as  he  should  do,  by  the  rules  of  grammar.  Lan- 
guages were  made  not  by  rules  of  art,  but  by  acci- 
dent, and  the  common  use  of  the  people.  And  he 
that  speaks  them  well  has  no  other  rule  but  that." 
"  I  know  not  why  any  one  should  waste  his  time  and 
beat  his  head  about  the  Latin  grammar,  who  does 
not  intend  to  be  a  critic,  or  make  speeches  in  it." 
It  is  lamentable  to  think  of  the  amount  of  time 
wasted  by  children  in  committing  to  memory  use- 
less rules  of  grammar,  when  in  the  same  time  they 
miifht  have  learned  to  read  the  language  with  ease. 


S  6  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

D'Arcy  Thompson,  in  his  excellent  book  called 
"  Day  Dreams  of  a  Schoolmaster,"  says  that  all 
the  Latin  grammar  which  need  be  committed  to 
memory  by  a  boy  could  be  contained  in  twenty-four 
pages. 

The  Latin  grammar  has  been  made  absurdly 
complicated  and  difficult,  but  the  absurdities  of  the 
English  grammar  taught  in  our  common  schools 
almost  exceed  belief.  If  grammar  is  "  the  science 
of  language,"  it  is  a  very  difficult  one,  and  ought 
never  to  be  taught  to  children.  But  if  it  is  "  the 
art  of  speaking  and  writing  correctly,"  then  nine- 
tenths  of  what  is  usually  taught  is  worse  than  use- 
less. We  do  not  learn  to  write  and  speak  correctly 
by  committing  to  memory  unintelligible  definitions 
and  rules,  but  by  reading  well-written  books,  and 
conversing  with  educated  speakers. 

Learning  to  spell  by  means  of  spelling-books, 
orally  recited,  is  another  foolish  way  of  wasting 
time.  Xo  one  ever  wishes  to  spell  orally,  —  he  only 
needs  knowledge  of  spelling  when  he  writes.  Spell- 
ing, therefore,  should  be  learned  at  the  same  time 
as  writing,  —  by  the  teacher  giving  out  sentences  to 
be  written  down  containing  the  words  usually  mis- 
spelt. 

Xo  work  which  we  do  trains  the  powers,  except 
that  which  we  do  thoroughly.  Imperfect  and  slov- 
enly work  leaves  a  slovenly  result  in  our  own 
mind.  Our  thought  becomes  vague,  and  our  judg- 
ment loses  its  definite  outline.  Therefore  let  us 
avoid  hurry. 


THE    USE   OE   TIME.  87 

It  is  not  the  longest  lives  that  have  been  the 
most  full.  Rafaelle  died  when  he  was  thirty-seven, 
while  Michel  Angelo  lived  to  be  ninety.  During 
his  thirty-seven  years,  Rafaelle  seems  to  have  done 
as  much  as  Michel  Angelo  did  in  his  ninety  years, 
though  the  genius  and  industry  of  the  latter  were, 
perhaps,  fully  equal  to  those  of  the  other.  For  a 
single  work  perfectly  done  is  enough  to  make  a  full 
life.  Handel  lived  to  be  eighty  ;  Mozart  died  when 
he  was  only  thirty-six.  But  who  remembers  how 
many  years  they  lived?  As  you  listen  to  tin;  music 
of  Mozart,  and  as  you  look  at  the  infants  of  Rafaelle, 
you  find  that  each  of  them  attained  that  marvellous 
summit  of  human  experience  in  which  joy  and  grief 
become,  one.  They  solve  the  problem  of  evil  by 
showing  that  the  deepest  sorrow  may  be  one  with 
the  highest  joy.  When  we  look  at  the  face  of  the 
infant  Jesus  in  the  pictures  of  Rafaelle,  and  listen 
to  the  music  of  Mozart,  we  perceive  in  both  a  per- 
fect union  of  pathos  and  joy,  of  sadness  and  gladness, 
of  gloom  and  glory,  of  light  and  shade,  of  sunshine 
and  shadow,  of  tender  pity  and  triumphant  praise. 
That  which  no  philosophy  and  no  theology  can 
do,  art  has  done,  to  show  us  the  element  of  good 
in  evil,  to  show  that  evil  is  the  black  carbon  out 
of  which  Xature  manufactures  her  most  brilliant 
diamonds. 

The  death  of  Christ  has  given  this  faith  to 
the  world.  Jesus  lived  only  thirty-one  or  thirty- 
three   years ;    the   first    thirty  years   were   years  of 


88  SELF-  CUL  Ti  'RE. 

preparation,  of  silence,  obscurity,  apparent  inaction. 
Then  came  one  year  of  real  life,  which  has  trans- 
formed the  world,  created  a  new  faith  in  God  and 
man,  caused  us  to  believe  in  good  in  spite  of  all 
appearance,  and  by  means  of  this  undying  faith 
in  good  has  made  goodness  real.  "What  a  mean- 
ing in  the  death  of  Jesus  is  this,  — that  the  most 
cruel  and  wicked  action  has  been  so  transfigured 
and  glorified  that  we  forget  all  the  horror  of  the 
cross,  and  make  it  the  symbol  of  triumph !  I 
presume  that  the  cross  which  Constantine  saw  in 
the  skies  was  not  miraculous  in  the  common  mean- 
ing of  that  term.  But  can  anything  be  more  mirac- 
ulous in  reality  than  this  fact,  —  that,  in  three 
hundred  years  from  the  death  of  Jesus,  this  instru- 
ment of  a  slave's  torture  should  become  the  standard 
of  the  Roman  Empire  ?  This  miracle  was  but  one 
of  the  results  of  Christ's  single  year  of  labor. 

To  make  the  best  use  of  time,  we  must  have 
life  in  the  soul.  He  who  is  something  will  do 
something  ;  lie  who  is  more  will  do  more,  and  he 
who  is  most  will  do  most.  Jesus,  in  a  single  year 
of  active  life,  lias  done  the  greatest  work  which  has 
ever  been  done  in  the  world  ;  hence  we  may  infer 
that  his  was  the  fullest  soul  that  has  ever  been  in 
the  world. 

Therefore,  it  is  not  a  quantity  of  time  that  is 
needed  in  order  to  do  a  great  work,  but  the  power 
of  using  time.  What  we  need  is  the  eternal  youth 
of  the  heart,  the  undying  love  of  truth.,  which  will 


THE    USE   OF   TIME.  89 

lift  us  above  the  hard  conservatism  which  refuses 
to  see  what  it  lias  never  yet  seen,  and  so  never 
learns  anything  new. 

To  make  the  best  use  of  time  we  must  keep  the 
old  and  accept  the  new.  There  are  two  kinds  of 
mmi  who  can  make  no  progress,  —  the  conservative 
who  is  so  conservative  as  never  to  accept  the  new 
births  of  time,  ami  the  radical  who  is  so  radical  as 
to  drop  the  old  truth  in  order  to  take  the  new  one. 
This  obstinate  conservatism,  which  shuts  its  eyes, 
and  closes  its  ears,  and  hardens  its  heart  against 
every  new  revelation  of  the  divine  spirit,  is  typified 
by  the  friend  of  Galileo,  who  refused  to  look  through 
his  telescope  to  see  the  satellites  of  Jupiter,  because, 
according  to  his  theory,  there  ought  not  to  be  any 
satellites  there.  "  Look  and  see  them,"  said  Galileo. 
"  1  will  not  look,"  replied  the  other.  "What  is  the 
use  of  looking  ?  1  know  that  there  are  none  there." 
But  the  emblem  of  that  radicalism  which  can  only 
get  on  new  ground  by  deserting  the  old  ground  is 
the  little  child,  whose  hands  are  so  small  that  he 
drops  the  apple  he  already  holds,  in  order  to  take 
another.  True  progress  is  in  keeping  all  the  old 
truth  and  accepting  all  the  new  truth.  So  we 
save  the  time,  and  go  on  from  good  years  to  better 
year.->. 

We  must  be  something  in  order  to  do  something, 
but  we  must  also  do  something  in  order  to  be  some- 
thing. The  best  rule,  I  think,  is  this  :  If  we  find  it 
hard  to  do  cjood.  then  let  us  trv  to  be  good.     If,  on 


90  SELF-CULTURE. 

the  other  hand,  we  find  it  hard  to  be  good,  then  let 
us  try  to  do  good.  Being  leads  to  doing,  doing  leads 
to  being.  Yet  below  both  as  their  common  root  is 
faith,  —  faith  in  God,  in  man,  in  ourselves,  in  the 
eternal  superiority  of  right  over  wrong,  truth  over 
error,  good  over  evil,  love  over  all  selfishness  and  all 
sin.  It  is  this  undying  faith  which  keeps  the  mind 
and  heart  young,  which  makes  every  day  dawn 
with  a  divine  beauty,  as  the  portal  opening  into  a 
heavenly  life ;  makes  every  year  come  with  the 
charm  of  a  new  hope  of  something  better  than  the 
last ;  and  makes  of  age  and  death  the  opening  high- 
way into  the  eternal  heaven  of  God. 

In  this  spirit  of  faith  let  us  begin  each  day,  and 
we  shall  be  sure  to  "  redeem  the  time  "  which  it 
brings  to  us,  by  changing  it  into  something  infinite 
and  eternal.  There  is  a  deep  meaning  in  this 
phrase  of  the  Apostle,  to  redeem  time.  We  redeem 
time,  and  do  not  merely  use  it.  We  transform  it 
into  eternity  by  living  it  aright. 


IV. 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 


/ 

IV. 

SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 


THE  subject  of  this  lecture  is  Self-knowledge. 
Is  it  desirable,  is  it  possible  ?      And  if  so, 
how  is  it  to  be  attained  ? 

"  Know  thyself,"  was  the  maxim  of  Thales,  the 
old  (ireek  realist;  a  maxim  thought  so  divine  that 
the  ancients  said  it  fell  from  heaven.  "  Search  and 
try  your  ways,"  said  the  Prophet  of  Judea.  Modern 
Christian  teachers  have  insisted  on  self-examination 
as  the  perpetual  and  universal  duty.  "  Thomas  a 
Kempis,"  "  Taylor's  Holy  Living,"  all  books  of  prac- 
tical piety,  inculcate  it  without  end.  "  See  what 
your  motive  is  in  everything,"  says  Jeremy  Taylor, 
"  for  the  holy  intention  is  to  the  actions  of  a  man 
that  which  the  soul  is  to  its  body,  or  the  form  to 
matter,  or  the  root  to  the  tree,  or  the  sun  to  the 
world,  or  the  fountain  to  a  river,  or  the  base  to  a 
pillar ;  for  without  these  the  body  is  a  dead  trunk, 
the  matter  is  sluggish,  the  tree  is  a  block,  the  world 
is  darkness,  the  river  is  quickly  run  dry,  the  pillar 
rushes  into  flatness  ami  ruin  ;  and  the  action  is  sin- 


94  SELF-CULTURE. 

ful,  unprofitable,  and  vain."  Not  only  religious 
teachers,  but  philosophers  and  poets,  have  taught  the 
importance  of  self-knowledge.     Burns  says, — 

"  0  wad  some  power  the  giftie  gie  us, 
To  see  ourselves  as  others  see  us  !  " 

And  Pythagoras  advised  that  "  sleep  should  not 
seize  upon  the  region  of  the  senses  before  we  have 
three  times  recalled  the  conversation  and  incidents  of 
the  day,"  in  order  to  know  what  we  have  done  or 
omitted  to  do. 

In  a  moral  point  of  view,  the  importance  of  self- 
examination  is  that  we  may  not  deceive  ourselves, 
imagining  we  are  better  than  we  are.  Man  has  the 
curious  power  of  deceiving  himself,  when  he  cannot 
deceive  others.  It  is  sad  even  to  tragedy  to  see  how 
some  persons  are  puffed  up,  like  the  frog  who 
thought  to  make  himself  as  large  as  the  bull  by 
swelling.  People  deceive  themselves  about  their 
capacity,  their  motives,  their  character.  How  many 
persons  persuade  themselves,  whenever  they  wish 
to  do  anything,  that  it  is  their  duty  to  do  it.  Some 
persons  go  through  the  world  believing  all  the  time 
that  they  do  just  about  what  they  ought,  and  be- 
cause they  have  some  rule  or  principle  of  action, 
think  they  are  dm  forming  to  it.  They  "  cast  the 
mote  out  of  tin/  eye  "  of  their  brother,  and  do  not 
perceive  the  beam  in  their  own.  They  "  compound 
for  sins  they  are  inclined  to,  by  damning  those  they 
have  n<i  mind  to."     Then  we  call   them   hypocrites. 


SELF-KKVIVLEDGE.  <J5 

But  they  are  not  so,  not  deliberate  hypocrites.  They 
are  not  cheating  us,  they  are  cheating  themselves. 
They  are  walking  on  straight  toward  a  day  of  judg- 
ment, utterly  ignorant  of  what  they  really  are. 
They  are  like  the  cruel  jailer  in  Charles  Eeade's 
story,  who  tortured  his  prisoners  in  the  most  horri- 
hle  way,  and  then  went  to  his  room  and  cried  over 
"  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  and  did  not  think  it  possible 
there  could  be  such  cruelty  as  Legree's  in  the  world. 

But  for  purposes  of  intellectual  self-culture, 
as  for  those  of  religion  and  morality,  self-knowledge 
is  necessary.  Before  we.  can  really  acquire  any  ac- 
complishment or  develop  any  power,  we  need  to 
know  what  we  can  do,  and  what  we  cannot.  For 
men  are  not  made  alike  ;  they  are  made  differently. 

There  is  a  theory,  I  know,  which  assumes  that  all 
persons  are  alike  at  first,  and  become  different  from 
force  of  circumstances,  or  from  their  own  efforts. 
Xo  father  or  mother  who  has  brought  up  a  family  of 
half  a  dozen  children  will  believe  such  a  doctrine  as 
that.  The  little  things,  as  soon  as  they  are  born, 
show  symptoms  of  the  traits  which  they  continue  to 
have  all  their  days.  One  child  has  a  strong  will, 
but  is  easily  guided  by  his  affections  ;  another  is 
cold;  one  is  quick,  but  changeable;  another  slow, 
but  persistent ;  one  is  reserved,  another  open;  one 
has  a  taste  for  music,  so  that  he  sings  from  his 
cradle  ;  another  a  tendency  to  construction,  so  that 
he  makes  all  his  toys  himself;  one,  like  George 
'Washington,   cannot    tell    a   lie.   and    another,  poor 


96  SELF-CULTURE 

little  thing  !  finds  it  hard  to  tell  the  truth.  Just  as 
a  young  duck  runs  to  the  water,  young  children  run 
to  the  work  or  play,  the  pictures,  the  poetry,  which 
they  are  made  for.  Every  observing  father  and 
mother  sees  this,  and  laughs  at  the  philosopher  who 
tells  them  that  children  are  born  alike,  and  made 
different  by  circumstances. 

~No ;  "  every  man  has  his  special  gift  from  the 
Lord,  —  some  after  this  fashion,  and  some  after  that ; " 
and  the  point  is  to  find  out  what  we  are,  what  we 
are  made  to  be,  and  to  do.  This  sort  of  self-knowl- 
edge prevents  discouragement.  Children  are  often 
thought  to  be  stupid,  and  think  themselves  that  they 
are  so,  merely  because  they  are  trying  to  do  some- 
thing they  are  not  fitted  for.  Other  children  are 
thought  infant  prodigies,  because  they  happen  pos- 
sibly to  possess  a  fine  verbal  memory,  and  can  re- 
peat, like  parrots,  what  they  hear.  So  they  grow 
conceited  upon  their  one  faculty ;  and  find  out,  too 
late,  that  the  memory  of  words  is  only  one  part,  and 
a  very  small  part,  of  intellectual  power.  Walter 
Scott  was  considered  a  very  stupid  boy,  out  of  whom 
nothing  could  be  made.  He  was  a  kind  of  fruit 
which  ripened  slowly  ;  the  best  kind  often  does  so. 
I  heard  Dr.  Spurzheim  say  that  a  young  man  had 
that  day  told  him,  "Dr.  Spurzheim,  you  do  not 
know  me,  but  you  were  the  greatest  benefactor  to 
me  on  one  occasion.  You  came  into  the  school 
where  I  was.  I  was  considered  the  greatest  block- 
head in  the  school,  and  believed  it  mvself,  and  did 


SEL  E-KA  O  WL  E  /)  GE.  < )  '/ 

not  think  it  worth  while  to  try  to  learn.  You  put 
your  hand  on  my  head,  and  said,  'Perceptive,  organs 
small ;  he  does  not  do  much  now.  Reflective  organs 
very  good  ;  when  he  comes  to  the  studies  which  ex- 
ercise those  faculties,  lie  will  he  one  of  the  brightest 
boys  in  the  school.'  This  gave  me  courage,  and  T 
found  it  was  really  so.  When  T  came  to  the  studies 
which  required  thought,  instead  of  mere  memory,  I 
went  to  the  head  of  my  class." 

When,  therefore,  I  speak  of  self-knowledge,  and 
of  self-examination  in  order  to  self-knowledge,  I  do 
not  mean  merely  the  knowledge  of  our  sins  or  our 
virtue.  I  do  not  mean  a  continual  searching  into  our 
motives,  and  a  constant  picking  to  pieces  of  our  own 
soul  to  see  how  it  works.  This  sort  of  self-examina- 
tion may  be  carried  a  great  deal  too  far.  Most 
books  of  piety  and  morality  mal^e  that  mistake. 
They  inculcate  a  self-scrutiny  which  is  fatal  to 
healthy  moral  life.  To  watch  one's  soul  all  the 
time,  seeking  for  moral  disease,  is  as  bad  as  to  search 
one's  body  all  the  time,  seeking  for  physical  disease. 
We  know  what  that  leads  to.  It  produces  hypo- 
chondria. A  man  comes  to  fancy  that  he  has  every 
possible  malady  he  is  looking  for.  Every  part  of 
the  body,  in  turn,  becomes  the  seat  of  pain  ;  the 
head  seems  about  to  burst;  the  heart  about  to  stop  ; 
and  the  symptoms  which  simulate  all  diseases  ap- 
pear. These  hypochondriacs  are  the  torments  of  their 
physicians,  and  think  they  arc  insulted  if  their  com- 
plaints are  called  imaginary.       There  is   a  spiritual 


98  SELF-CULTURE. 

hypochondria  of  the  same  kind.  A  man  who  is 
searching  his  motives  to  find  how  much  sin  and  sel- 
fishness there  is  in  him,  will  find  a  great  deal.  He 
torments  himself  with  all  sorts  of  fears ;  he  is 
afraid  he  lias  no  piety,  no  genuine  charity ;  that  his 
prayers  are  false,  his  repentance  insincere ;  he 
thinks  he  has  blasphemed  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  com- 
mitted the  unpardonable  sin  ;  and  if  his  spiritual 
adviser  denies  this,  he  thinks  himself  being  misled, 
and  very  badly  treated.  One  danger  of  the  Eonian 
Catholic  confessional  is  the  tendency  to  produce  this 
disease,  and  sometimes  the  opposite  state  of  spir- 
itual pride  and  self-deception.  Blanco  White  says 
that  in  the  Spanish  nunneries  this  spiritual  disease  is 
very  common,  and  even  has  received  a  special  name. 
It  is  called  Los  Escrupdos,  the  "  Scruples."  The  phy- 
sician who  has*  a  hypochondriac  patient,  and  the 
Roman  Catholic  confessor  who  has  one  of  these  self- 
tormentors  in  his  confessional,  are  equally  to  be 
pitied. 

By  self-examination  I  mean  something  different. 
I  do  not  mean  this  sort  of  daily  self-inspection 
which  tends  to  egotism  and  which  freezes  the  heart. 
You  must  not  keep  pulling  up  the  seeds  to  see  if 
they  are  growing.  If  you  do  this,  you  kill  them. 
The  tree  is  known  by  its  fruits,  not  by  its  roots,  nor 
yet  by  a  chemical  analysis  of  its  sap  and  fibre. 
"When  the  great  ocean  steamer  is  battling  with  the 
Atlantic,  they  do  not  put  out  the  fires  every  day  in 
order  to  examine  the  boilers.     Thev  give  them  one 


SELI-A'.YO  WLEDGE.  {)[) 

careful  examination  in  port.  When  at  sea,  if  the 
engine  works  well,  and  the  steam-gauge  tells  the 
proper  story,  they  conclude  that  all  is  right. 

1  do  not  believe  in  any  minute  self-scrutiny.  I 
believe  in  a  general  self-examination,  once  for  all, 
or  once  in  a  great  while,  and  then  in  looking  to  see 
whether  the  engine  is  doing  its  work  ;  in  daily  self- 
examination,  not  of  the  motives,  but  of  the  conduct, 
of  the  actual  life.  Do  not  look  within,  to  see 
whether  you  have  sinned  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  or 
whether  your  feelings  are  right;  but  look  without, 
to  see  what  you  are  doing  for  others  ;  what  you  are 
saying  ;  what  your  temper  and  spirit  are  to  those 
about  you.  If  the  engine  is  looking  well,  and  the 
vessel  is  running,  you  may  assume  that  the  boilers 
are  in  good  order.  Look  up,  also,  for  higher  light, 
and  for  more  life. 

But  we  need  a  certain  general  knowledge  of  hu- 
man nature  in  order  to  gain  a  special  self-knowledge. 
To  know  what  our  particular  capacity  is,  what  our 
special  defects  are,  we  need  some  systematic  knowl- 
edge of  the  soul.  It  is  true  that,  without  any  such 
system  of  psychology,  we  get  a  knowledge  of  hu- 
man nature  from  life.  We  also  learn  a  great  deal 
about  mankind  from  history,  biography,  the  drama. 
poetry,  novels.  Probably  these  teach  us  more,  and 
more  truly,  on  the  whole,  than  any  system  of  moral 
or  mental  philosophy.  A  play  of  Shakspeare's,  or  a 
novel  by  Dickens,  shows  us  human  beings  in  action  ; 
human   faculties   at   work    and    alive  :    metaphysics 


1 00  SELF-Ci  TL  TURK. 

shows  them  inactive,  and  taken  apart.  .  The  one  is 
like  the  study  of  muscles  in  an  anatomical  museum  ; 
the  other,  like  studying  them  in  a  gymnasium.  But 
I  think  that,  as,  in  order  to  know  the  body,  we  must 
see  it  in  both  ways  ;  so,  in  order  to  know  the  soul, 
we  must  not  only  read  history  and  poetry  and  see 
actual  life,  but  it  is  also  desirable  to  have  some 
methodized  system  of  human  nature  ;  for  only  thus 
can  we  be  prevented  from  being  one-sided ;  from 
laying  too  much  stress  on  some  qualities,  too  little  on 
others.  We  ought  to  have  a  knowledge  of  the  whole 
soul  while  studying  its  separate  faculties. 

And  of  all  systematic  divisions  of  human  nature 
into  faculties  and  powers,  I  think  that  of  phrenology, 
on  the  whole,  the  most  convenient,  merely  as  the 
basis  of  self-examination.  I  think  so  for  several 
reasons ;  first,  because  it  is  founded  on  actual  obser- 
vations of  life,  and  therefore  is  true  in  the  main.  I 
am  not  now  speaking  of  craniology,  or  the  shape  of 
the  head,  but  of  phrenology,  or  the  arrangement  of 
human  powers.  I  like  it,  though  it  does  not  give 
us  the  depths  and  heights  of  human  nature.  I  hit  it 
presents  a  good  sketch,  for  working  purposes,  of  the 
various  powers  of  the  human  soul.  It  has  nothing 
to  say  of  the  soul  itself;  it  only  speaks  of  its  or- 
gans, its  faculties,  its  tools.  It  has  nothing  to  say 
of  freedom;  that  is  assumed,  or  not,  as  you  will. 
The  phrenological  arrangement  of  human  faculties 
leaves  all  these  questions  just  where  they  were, 
neither  asserting  nor  denying  anything  in  regard  to 
them. 


SEL  E-  A '.  \  O I  I'L  ED  GE.  1  ( 1 1 

I  recommend  the  phrenological  arrangement  of 
human  powers  simply  as  a  convenient  one  in  self- 
study.  If  a  man  wishes  to  know  what  he  is  lit  tor 
and  capable  of,  this  gives  him  a  useful  method  of 
investigation.  It  divides,  for  example,  all  our  pow- 
ers into  mental,  moral,  and  passional,  —  intellect, 
morals,  and  affections.  To  the  intellectual  region 
belong,  first,  the  perceptive  faculties,  by  which  we 
take  notice  of  outward  objects ;  observe  their  si/e, 
form,  weight,  and  color.  Then  the  reasoning  powers, 
by  which  we  compare  objects  to  see  if  they  are 
alike  or  unlike,  if  they  are  cause  and  effect,  if  they 
are  congruous  or  incongruous.  Then  there  is  the 
imagination,  which  makes  a  picture  of  the  whole 
while  examining  the  parts.  Then,  again,  come  the 
moral  qualities,  —  sympathy,  reverence,  conscience, 
firmness.  Then  follow  the  passional  and  energetic 
powers,  which  supply  movement  and  force,  as  self- 
reliance,  the  desire  of  approbation,  the  desire  for 
home,  the  love  of  family  and  friends,  the  passion  for 
battling  with  difficulties,  the  passion  for  destroying 
evils,  the  passion  for  collecting  property  in  all  its 
forms,  the  desire  of  construction,  which  is  the  basis 
of  all  ait.  Xow,  this  may  be,  or  may  not  be,  the 
best  classification  of  human  powers  ;  but  it  is,  at 
least,  a  nearly  exhaustive  classification.  Add,  as 
the  basis  of  it,  the  soul  itself,  and  its  freedom,  which 
is  the  essence  of  the  soul,  and  this  classification 
shows  well  enough  what  our  faculties  and  powers 
are. 


Itl-J  SELF-CL'LTURK. 

One  advantage  of  this  classification  is  that  it 
helps  ns  to  make  very  useful  distinctions  in  self- 
study.  For  instance,  the  old  mental  philosophy 
recognized  only  one  kind  of  memory.  A  person  had 
a  good  memory,  or  a  bad  one.  Now,  we  know  that 
tlu-re  are  a  great  many  different  kinds  of  memory. 
One  person  remembers  names,  but  forgets  faces; 
another  easily  remembers  lines  of  poetry,  but  not 
prose  ;  another  recollects  single  facts  and  dates  with 
remarkable  tenacity,  but  has  little  memory  for 
causes,  reasons,  or  arguments.  I,  myself,  can  re- 
member ten  thousand  lines  of  poetry,  but,  though  I 
have  lived  in  Boston  since  1  was  a  little  boy,  I  can- 
not describe  the  looks  and  size  of  the  buildings  on 
Washington  Street,  between  Milk  Street  and  State 
Street.  And  yet  T  can  give  you  a  general  picture  of 
any  city  in  Kurope  which  1  may  have  seen  daring 
only  a  few  days.  Phrenology  explains  all  this  by 
teaching  ns  that  every  organ  has  its  own  memory. 
A  large  organ  of  time  remembers  time.  A  person 
who  has  a  great  deal  of  this  can  often  tell  what 
o'clock  it  is  without  a  watch  ;  a  large  organ  of  tune 
remembers  music;  a  huge  organ  of  language  re- 
members names;  a  huge  organ  of  configuration 
remembers  laces  and  forms;  a  large  organ  of  imag- 
ination remembers  the  general  aspect  of  a  country, 
of  a  story,  of  a  face. 

One  advantage  of  this  system  is  thai  it  shows  ns 
how  every  power  lias  its  use  and  its  abuse;  how 
(rod  has  made  evervthing  in  ns  good,  but  that  we 


SEL  F-  A'.YOH  'L  ED  GE .  103 

can  abuse  everything  by  excess,  [t  also  shows  how 
one  faculty  may  correct  the  excesses  of  another,  or 
supply  its  deficiencies.  Thus  what  the  phrenologist 
calls  the  organs  of  combativeness  and  destructive- 
n ess  are  most  important  and  valuable  in  their  proper 
sphere.  They  help  us  to  wage  the  battle  of  life,  to 
conquer  difficulties,  to  meet  opposition,  to  resist  and 
destroy  evil  and  wrong;  in  short,  to  fight  the  good 
fight,  and  finish  the  work  given  us  to  do.  Xo  man 
can  be  an  eminent  philanthropist  or  a  martyr  with- 
out them.  But  they  can  easily  be  carried  to  excess, 
or  exercised  in  a  wrong  direction.  Then  they  make 
us  quarrelsome,  controversial,  satirical,  vindictive, 
lashing  others  witli  tongue  or  pen,  and  striking 
them  with  the  dagger  of  sharp,  poisonous,  bitter, 
unkind  words.  They  make  termagants  and  scolds, 
fault-finders  and  Papal  inquisitors.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  best  moral  tendencies  may  be  excessive, 
or  misdirected.  The  lovely  power  of  sympathy, 
which  causes  so  much  happiness,  which  makes  men 
enter  into  the  feelings  of  others,  rejoice  with  those 
who  rejoice,  and  weep  with  those  who  weep;  which 
constitutes  so  much  of  the  sweetness  and  comfort  of 
life  ;  this,  also,  may  be  excessive  or  one-sided.  Then 
it  makes  persons  weak  and  false,  yielding  to  the 
present  influence,  loving  the  person  who  is  near, 
forgetting  the  one  who  is  absent,  neglecting  past 
promises,  and  so  tending  to  insincerity.  Therefore 
this  tendency  needs  to  be  restrained  by  firmness, 
eelf-esteem,   and   conscientiousness.     But   these,   in 


104  SELF-CULTURE. 

turn,  though  good,  are  also  easily  carried  to  excess. 
Self-esteem  produces  self-reliance,  which  is  one  of 
the  most  essential  features  of  character.  Without 
it,  character  can  hardly  exist.  It  is  the  organ  of 
sincerity,  of  independence,  of  personality.  Yet  it 
tends  to  dogmatism,  to  egotism,  to  assumption  of 
superiority,  to  overbearing  manners,  forgetting  the 
claims  of  others;  and  it  makes  the  character  hard 
and  cold.  Even  the  conscience  may  be  diseased. 
Conscience  may  be  too  irritable,  or  too  scrupulous ; 
it  may  be  always  tormenting  the  soul  with  questions 
about  imaginary  sins ;  it  may  make  us  so  afraid  of 
doing  wrong  that  we  shall  never  do  anything  right. 
Firmness  may  become  obstinacy ;  the  love  of  order 
may  grow  into  pedantry ;  the  love  of  home  take 
one  away  from  social  and  public  duties.  P^ven  rev- 
erence may  become  a  fault.  It  is  the  crown  of  the 
whole  moral  nature,  and  has  been  therefore  fitly 
found  by  phrenologists  on  the  summit  of  the  head. 
1 1  produces  that  beautiful  modesty  which,  when 
accompanying  manliness,  is  so  charming  ;  it  creates 
that  respect  for  all  that  is  above  us,  which  lifts  the 
soul;  it  is  the  great  incentive  to  nobleness;  it  is 
the  power  which  enables  us  to  rise  above  ourselves 
in  the  worship  of  goodness,  whether  human  or 
divine.  Shakspeare  calls  it  "that  angel  of  the 
world;"  Goethe  calls  it  "the  crown  of  the  whole 
moral  nature."  It  is  the  power  of  moral  harmony; 
which  makes  a  concord  of  all  discordant  things,  by 
opening    the    soul  to  the   highest    and    best  of  all. 


SELF-KNO  WLEDGE.  105 

And  yet  even  this  great  and  wonderful  power  may 
be  abused.  It  may,  if  not  enlightened  by  reason 
and  truth,  lead  to  gross  superstitions  and  worship  of 
the  letter  and  the  form.  It  may  become  idolatry. 
It  is  essentially  the  religious  organ,  but  it  leads, 
when  unenlightened  and  unregulated,  to  the  worst 
abuses.  All  the  cruelties  practised  in  the  name  of 
religion  have  been  the  results  of  an  unenlightened 
reverence.  If  we  reverence  a  being  as  Clod  whom 
we  believe  wilful,  cruel,  unjust,  or  partial,  then 
our  reverence  tends  to  make  us,  also,  wilful,  cruel, 
and  partial.  The  special  abuse  of  reverence  is  idol- 
atry, which  is  worshipping  the  letter  instead  of  the 
spirit.  To  worship  a  form,  a  name,  a  letter,  instead 
of  the  spirit,  hurts  the  soul.  To  worship  the  letter 
of  a  creed,  of  a  church,  of  the  Bible,  injures  the 
spirit.  That  is  wdiy  the  Apostle  declares  that  "  the 
letter  killeth." 

The  great  advantage  of  any  self-study  which 
shows  us  what  are  our  special  organic  defects  and 
corresponding  gifts  and  powers,  is  that  it  makes  us 
both  humble  and  hopeful.  Self-conceit  comes  from 
a  vague  imagination  of  possessing  some  great  genius 
or  superiority ;  and  not  from  any  actual,  precise 
knowledge  of  what  we  are.  Actual  knowledge  of 
one's  self  will  always  show  us  that  some  temptation 
besets  every  success ;  that  some  opportunity  comes 
with  every  failure ;  that  our  weaknesses  have  a 
strength  hidden  in  them  ;  that  our  strength  has  also 
its  weak  side.     "  Every  one,"  says  the  French  prov- 


106  SELF-CULTURE. 

erb,  "  has  the  defects  of  his  qualities  ;  "  every  one, 
also,  lias  the  qualities  of  his  defects.  "  Our  virtues 
and  vices,"  says  a  great  thinker,  "  grow  out  of  the 
same  roots."  And  does  not  Jesus  intimate  as  much 
in  that  parable  which  teaches  that,  in  trying  to  pull 
up  the  tares,  we  may  run  the  risk  of  pulling  up  the 
wheat,  too  ?  That  is  the  risk  which  those  run  who 
try  to  root  out  and  destroy  every  natural  tendency 
in  man,  because  of  the  abuses  which  it  occasions. 
Christ,  who  did  not  come  to  destroy  anything,  but 
to  fulfil  everything,  said,  "  Let  both  grow  together 
till  the  harvest."  "We  cannot  always  root  out  an 
evil  tendency;  but  we  can  often  grow  it  out.  Give 
more  life,  more  growth,  more  sun  and  rain,  more 
truth  and  love,  —  these  powers  of  growth  will  con- 
quer the  evils  in  the  soul  and  in  the  heart. 

These  considerations,  as  1  have  said,  make  us  both 
humble  and  hopeful.  We  are  humble  in  thinking 
that  our  best  success  and  our  highest  gifts  have  their 
danger.  We  are  hopeful  when  we  see  that  even  the 
worst  tiling  in  us  can  be  turned  to  good.  So  God. 
in  his  great  geological  workshops,  makes  diamonds 
out  of  carbon  and  rubies  out  of  clay.  Man's  brain 
is  a  self-compensating  machine,  an  automatic,  self- 
correcting  apparatus.  God  has  set  in  it  two  against 
two;  every  power  has  its  antagonist  power,  lie 
has  placed  in  man  a  tendency  to  hope,  and  another 
to  caution,  as  its  counterweight,  lie  has  given  self- 
reliance,  and  also  sympathy;  he  has  inspired  the 
wish  to  battle   with    wrong   and    evil  ;   he  has  added 


SELF-A'NO  WLEDGE.  107 

the  tendency  to  reverence  and  .submit  to  good.  He 
lias  given  us  powers  which  take  us  outward  into  the 
world  of  things  and  men;  others  winch  draw  us 
inward  to  the  world  of  imagination  and  reflection. 

But  man  is  not  a  mere  machine,  nor  is  organiza- 
tion the  whole.  The  body,  after  all,  is  only  the 
chest  of  tools  which  the  soul  uses.  And  just  as  one 
man  with  a  jack-knife  can  do  more  than  another 
with  a  whole  box  of  tools,  so  we  see  some  men  of 
comparatively  small  natural  powers  accomplish 
more  in  the  course  of  life  than  others  of  great  genius, 
who  have  neglected  their  gifts  or  abused  them.  The 
power  which  modifies  all  organization,  and  lifts  us 
above  the  control  of  matter  ami  structure,  is  the 
power  of  conviction,  of  a  living  faith  in  truth.  Self- 
knowledge  is  an  immense  help  in  progress,  but  it  is 
a  small  thing  compared  with  the  knowledge  of  God, 
truth,  duty,  ami  goodness.  In  the  history  of  the 
world  we  have  seen  the  most  richly  endowed  nations 
sleep  on,  undeveloped  and  inactive,  through  long 
centuries,  and  then,  inspired  by  some  great  convic- 
tion, flame  up  into  magnanimities  and  heroisms 
without  example.  So  it  was  with  the  Arabs  in  the 
time  of  Mohammed;  with  the  Greeks  in  the  age  of 
Miltiades  and  Pericles.  So,  in  biography,  we  find 
vast  results  proceeding  from  the  soul  of  some  man 
not  very  greatly  endowed,  not  very  richly  organized, 
but  who  has  been  fired  by  a  sublime  conviction. 
The  founders  of  religions,  the  movers  of  reformations, 
have   usually  been  men   with   some  special  organic 


1  US  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

gilts,  indeed,  but,  more  than  that,  men  magnetized 
by  a  dee])  conviction. 

I  recollect  that  once,  when  I  lived  in  the  West, 
there  came  a  phrenologist  to  the  town  and  examined 
the  heads  of  all  the  clergymen  in  the  place,  and 
found  us  all  deficient  in  the  organ  of  reverence. 
More  than  that,  we  all  admitted  that  the  fact  was 
so;  that  we  were  not,  any  of  us,  specially  gifted 
with  natural  piety  or  love  for  worship.  Then  he 
said,  "You  have  all  mistaken  your  calling.  You 
ought  not  to  have  been  ministers."  But  I,  for  one, 
protested  against  that  sentence,  for  I  knew  that, 
though  I  had  no  natural  tendency  to  worship  or 
pray,  I  had  come  by  experience  to  know  that  I 
could  not  live  well  without  prayer.  Though  I  did 
not  pray  from  sentiment,  and  feeling,  I  was  able  to 
pray  from  conviction  and  faith. 

The  sight  of  truth  is  the  necessary  supplement  to 
the  power  of  structure.  Without  the  sight  of  truth, 
man  is  the  slave  of  his  organization.  Study  his 
head,  and  you  can.  perhaps,  tell  what  he  may  be. 
I >n t,  endowed  with  truth,  he  is  the  master  of  his 
organization  ;  he  makes  it  serve  him.  He  is  able  to 
sec  what  are  its  defects,  and  supply  them.  If  he 
finds  himself  too  hopeful,  lie  studies  to  supplement 
his  hope  by  a  greater  caution  ;  if  lie  sees  that  he  is 
too  timid,  he  encourages  himself  to  do  his  work 
more  bravely.  If  his  sympathy  runs  away  with 
him,  he  meets  this  by  educating  his  self-reliance. 
If  his  imagination  is  too  active,  he  supplies  the 
fault  bv  a  habit  of  increased  reflection,  and  bv  more 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE.  109 

devoted  attention  to  facts.  He  is  thus  like  the  man 
who  steers  a  ship,  with  the  compass  before  his  eyes, 
showing  which  way  the  vessel  is  moving;  with  the 
chart  in  the  cabin,  telling  which  way  it  ought  to  go  ; 
with  the  helm  in  his  hand,  enabling  him  to  turn  it 
to  the  right  or  left  as  need  requires.  But  the  mighty 
winds  of  divine  truth  coming  from  above ;  the 
mighty  fires  within,  of  a  divinely-gifted  organiza- 
tion,—  these  supply  the  motive-power;  and  what 
he  has  to  do  is  to  keep  the  course  in  his  mind,  and 
to  keep  the  compass  in  his  eye,  and  to  keep  his 
hand  on  the  helm,  always  steering  the  ship  in  the 
right  direction. 

This  is  human  freedom,  and  these  are  its  limita- 
tions. "We  are  not  free  to  become  anything  we 
choose,  or  to  do  anything  we  wish.  We  are  limited 
outwardly  by  circumstances,  inwardly  by  our  own 
organic  tendencies.  But,  if  we  have  any  sure  con- 
victions of  what  is  true,  right,  and  good,  we  can 
steer  that  way.  We  can  study  our  complex  nature, 
and  when  we  come  to  know  it,  we  can  encourage 
and  cultivate  what  is  best,  discourage  what  is  likely 
to  lead  us  astray.  We  cannot  make  circumstances, 
but  we  can  select  those  which  are  favorable.  We, 
can  make  use  of  the  power  of  habit  to  fix  and  so- 
lidify all  our  good  qualities.  And,  above  all,  if  we 
believe  in  an  ever-present  God.  and  a  divine  influence 
from  him,  we  can  trust  ourselves  to  his  care,  and  open 
our  hearts  to  his  inspiration,  and  so  be  lifted  up  into 
tin'  serene  atmosphere  of  peace  and  purity,  away  from 
whatever  is  dangerous  to  the  soul. 


V. 


EDUCATION    OF   THE    POWERS   OF 
OBSERVATION. 


V. 

EDUCATION     OF     THE    POWERS     OF 
OBSERVATION. 


I  HAVE  to  speak  next  of  the  perceptive  organs, 
—  the  faculties  of  observation  in  man,  —  and 
their  education. 

The  immense  importance  of  these  faculties  appears 
from  the  fact  that  by  means  of  these,  and  of  these 
alone,  the  soul  conies  in  contact  with  this  whole 
external  universe  of  God. 

1  am  not  now  merely  speaking  of  the  bodily  senses, 
—  the  eye,  the  ear,  the  smell,  the  touch,  the  taste. 
Behind  these  senses  are  the  organs  which  use  them  ; 
and  behind  these,  the  soul  itself,  with  its  faculties. 
We  must  not  confound  the  organs  of  observation 
with  the  senses,  for  then  we  limit  the  power  of  their 
education.  Perhaps  the  eye  and  ear  cannot  be 
trained  to  very  much  greater  quickness  and  power, 
but  the  faculties  which  use  the  eye  and  ear  certainly 
can. 

Hitherto  we  have  neglected  too  much  the  educa- 
tion of  the  faculties  of  observation.  Yet  the  power 
of  noticing  and  remembering  the  outward  phenomena 

8 


114  SELF-CULTURE. 

of  the  world  is  one  which  may  be  very  highly  edu- 
cated. The  North  American  Indian  had  no  better 
eyes  than  the  white  man  but  he  had  trained  his 
powers  of  observation  in  a  certain  direction,  till  no 
sign  of  the  woods  escaped  him.  A  turned  leaf,  a 
broken  twig,  the  faintest  film  of  smoke  against  the 
sky,  betrayed  to  him  the  passage  or  presence  of  an 
enemy.  But  the  white  man  readily  learned  this 
art,  and  the  hunters  of  Kentucky  were  soon  aide  to 
match  the  Indian  in  his  knowledge  of  the  signs  of 
the  wilderness. 

In-door  life  and  mechanical  inventions  dull  the 
powers  of  observation.  Instead  of  noticing  the  shad- 
dows  of  the  trees  to  find  the  hour,  we  look  at  the 
clock  ;  instead  of  observing  the  movement  of  the  sun 
to  and  from  the  north  for  the  seasons,  we  examine 
the  almanac  ;  instead  of  looking  at  the  movements 
of  the  clouds  for  the  weather  and  winds,  we  look  at 
the  barometer,  and  examine  the  Probabilities  in  the 
newspaper.  With  all  our  book  knowledge,  our  school 
culture,  we  are  conscious  of  a  certain  inferiority 
when  we  meet  a  man  taught  by  Nature, — one  who 
knows  the  woods,  the  birds  and  beasts  ;  one  who  can 
help  himself  when  lost  in  the  forest  or  overtaken  by 
tempests.  A  gentleman  once  told  me  that  he  went 
to  visit  his  brother,  who  had  long  lived  in  Texas. 
His  brother  introduced  him  to  an  old  settler,  rough 
and  ready,  who  looked  at  him,  and  said,  in  a  friendly 
way,  "  You'll  learn  something  by  and  by ;  your 
brother  was  very  green  when  he  first  came  here." 


THE   PO IVERS   OF  OB  SEA'  I  'A  770  X.  1  1  o 

We  live  too  much  in-doors.  The  out-door  races 
—  the  Indians  of  America,  the  hunters  of  the  West, 
the  Arabs  of  Asia  and  Africa  —  have  a  more  exhila- 
rating life  than  ours,  because  always  in  contact  with 
air  and  sun.  sky  and  plain.  But  we  need  not  turn 
Arabs  or  Indians  in  order  to  commune  with  Nature. 
We  can  have  all  the  blessings  of  a  high  civilization, 
and  yet  retain  the  health  of  body  and  mind  which 
comes  from  being  immersed  in  God's  great  world  of 
external  phenomena,  if  we  will  educate  the  powers 
of  observation. 

We  begin  the  mistake  in  our  schools.  There  we 
teach  chiefly  words,  seldom  things.  Even  object- 
teaching,  in  the  primary  schools,  which  promised  to 
supply  this  defect,  has,  in  many  places,  relapsed  into 
th"  teaching  of  words.  I  have  seen  object-teaching 
of  this  sort.  The  skeleton  of  a  dog  or  cat  is  placed 
on  a  table.  The  teacher  says,  "This  is  a  skeleton. 
What  is  this  \  "  Then  the  children  repeat,  "  A  skele- 
ton." The  teacher  touches  the  skull,  and  says,  "  This 
is  a  skull.  What  is  this  ?  "  Then  the  children  repeat, 
'A  skull."  Xow,  it  is  true  that  the  children  here 
see  an  object,  while  its  name  is  given  them  ;  but 
what  they  learn  is  the  name.  They  do  not  learn  to 
observe. 

I  know  it  is  difficult,  in  a  city,  to  teach  the  chil- 
dren of  the  schools  to  observe  outward  facts.  Yet 
much  may  be  done  by  museums,  gardens,  and  green- 
houses, in  which  specimens  of  plants,  minerals,  and 
animals  are  arranged  and  classified,  as  in  the  great 


116  SELF-CULTURE. 

collections  in  Europe.  And,  in  the  country,  why 
should  not  the  children  be  taught  to  make  collections 
themselves  of  grasses,  fungi,  lichens,  leaves,  bark ;  of 
the  different  stones  and  earth;  to  observe  and  describe 
insects,  birds,  fishes.  I  think  a  text-book  might  be 
prepared  for  the  schools,  which  should  contain  de- 
scriptions of  the  Mineralogy,  Flora  and  Fauna  of 
New  England  ;  that  is,  of  all  the  common  weeds, 
flowers,  trees,  birds,  insects,  animals,  and  the  geolo- 
gical formations  just  around  us  here.  Every  child 
ought  to  know,  first  of  all,  the  wonderful  creations 
of  God  in  the  midst  of  which  it  lives.  Think  of  the 
absurdity  of  spending  so  much  time  at  school,  and 
then  of  not  knowing  the  difference  between  a  beech 
and  an  oak,  between  a  piece  of  quartz  and  a  frag- 
ment of  marble .'  Yet  such  is  the  result,  often,  of 
our  system  of  education,  which  devotes  years  to 
learning  the  names  of  towns  in  India  and  China,  or 
the  absurdities  of  English  grammar,  and  not  an  hour 
to  the  common  things  which  lie  around  us. 

It  would  seem  from  the  study  of  the  brain  that 
man  has  distinct  organs  for  observing  individual 
facts  and  events,  the  shapes  and  forms  of  tilings, 
words  and  names,  the  pressure  and  resistance  of 
objects,  the  progress  of  time,  the  tints  of  color,  and 
melodies  of  sound.  Each  of  these  faculties  can  be 
trained  and  developed.  By  careful  practice  all  can 
be  greatly  improved.  The  members  of  a  family 
might  agree  to  remember  and  relate  every  evening 
the  events  of  the  day,  to  describe  the  persons  they 


77/E   POWERS   OF  OBSRRl'ATIOX.  11, 

have  seen,  to  repeat  the  striking  remarks  they  have 
heard,  and  to  cultivate  habits  of  careful  observation. 
Drawing  from  memory  faces  and  figures,  making 
rapid  sketches  in  walking  or  travelling  of  pictu- 
resque scenery,  educate  the  organs  of  form.  Drawing 
from  memory  outline  maps,  as  practised  in  schools, 
does  the  same.  By  practice,  a  person  can  learn  to 
tell  the  height  or  length  of  a  room  within  a  few 
inches  ;  the  weight  of  an  object  held  in  the  hand  to 
within  half  an  ounce.  By  practice,  a  list  of  a  dozen 
or  twenty  names,  heard  a  single  time,  can  be  remem- 
bered. Such  accomplishments,  once  acquired,  give 
pleasure  in  the  exercise;  for  this  is  a  law  of  human 
nature,  which  causes  what  is  once  gained  to  bo 
secured.  Study  which  does  not  result  in  accom- 
plishment is  bad,  for  we  forget  easily  what  does 
not  root  itself  by  means  of  useful  attainments  and 
skilled  processes.  One  reason  why  a  language  is 
learned  so  rapidly  in  the  country  where  it  is  spoken 
is  this  :  that  everything  so  learned  is  turned  instantly 
to  use,  and  becomes  an  accomplishment.  If,  in 
France,  I  learn  to  ask  for  a  plate  or  a  napkin,  there 
is  a  certain  pleasure  in  this,  and  I  repeat  it  as  an 
accomplishment,  and  so  fix  the  knowledge. 

One  of  the  best  methods  of  educating  the  percep- 
tive powers  is  by  the  study  of  some  science,  as 
botany,  geology,  zoology,  or  some  form  of  natural 
history.  These  ought  to  take  us  out  of  doors,  put 
us  in  the  fields  and  woods,  show  us  Xature,  open 
our    eves   and    awaken   observation.     The    botanist 


i  1 8  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

walks  on,  hour  after  hour,  searching  for  some  plant, 
till  he  detects  its  habitat  by  the  side  of  a  stream,  or 
on  the  damp  borders  of  a  quiet  lake.  The  ornithol- 
ogist steps  with  the  light  tread  of  an  Indian  over 
the  rocks  and  leaves,  following  the  whistle  of  a 
thrush  or  the  cry  of  a  cat-bird,  till  he  detects  the 
little  lady,  sitting  in  maiden  meditation,  fancy  free, 
among  the  leaves,  and  watches  her  gentle  movements 
till  he  comes  to  know  her  by  heart.  Then  the  stu- 
dent of  geology  walks  over  hill  and  plain,  reading  a 
great  history  of  one  hundred  thousand  years  in  the 
swell  and  roll  of  the  meadow,  in  the  rounded  escarp- 
ment of  rocks,  in  the  long  level  of  the  plateaus. 

I  rejoice  much  in  the  increasing  interest  in  such 
studies.  They  bring  us  into  loving  relations  with 
the  great  universe  of  God,  that  roaring  loom  of  Time 
which  forever  weaves  the  garment  of  the  Almighty, 
the  garment  by  which  he  becomes  visible.  They 
educate  those  powers  which  half  perceive  and  half 
create  (as  Wordsworth  says)  the  world.  One  of  my 
friends  spent  four  months  in  a  visit  to  Japan,  and 
used  such  diligence  as  to  bring  back  hundreds  of 
specimens  of  curious  living  beings.  Another  friend, 
instead  of  passing  his  winter  at  dinner-parties  and 
in  clubs.,  goes  to  dredge  in  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  for 
the  lower  forms  of  life.  One  summer,  at  the  sea- 
shore, I  found  a  school  of  students,  with  their  micro- 
scopes, diligently  studying  varieties  of  the  sponge. 
And,  last  summer,  sitting  on  our  piazza  in  the  even- 
ing, we  were  mystified  by  the  appearance  of  a  lantern* 


'THE   POWERS   OF  OBSERVATION,  119 

moving  to  and  fro  in  a  neighboring  field,  with  uncon- 
firmed intent,  till  late  at  night.  At  last,  we  went 
to  see  what  it  could  be,  thinking  the  man  was  look- 
ing for  something  valuable  which  had  been  hist  ; 
and,  behold  !  it  was  a  naturalist  catching  night-moths. 
Now  this  new  interest  in  all  the  lower  forms  of  life 
is  certainly  a  good  thing.  Since  the  Creator  has  not 
thought  it  beneath  his  dignity  to  make  them,  we 
must  not  consider  it  beneath  ours  to  study  them. 
Last  night,  we  watched  from  our  roof  that  lovely 
phenomenon,  the  approach  of  Venus  to  the  moon,  till 
a  cloud  received  them  out  of  our  sight.  Have  we  not 
reason  to  admire  the  goodness  of  God,  who  has  given 
us  power  of  observation,  by  which  we  can  perceive 
the  motions  of  these  majestic  luminaries,  millions  of 
miles  away  in  the  depths  of  space:  and,  also,  study 
the  minute  animalcules  which  pass  their  days  in  a 
spoonful  of  water,  and,,  no  doubt,  enjoy  that  small 
existence  in  their  way,  as  we  do  ours. 

A  certain  amount  of  out-of-door  life  is  necessary 
to  bodily  health,  and  without  bodily  health  how  can 
we  have  mental  vigor,  moral  purity,  or  spiritual 
peace  I  What  people  think  to  be  sin  in  themselves 
is  often  only  disease,  dyspepsia ;  what  we  censure 
sharply  in  others,  as  a  fault  of  temper,  is  only  the 
want  of  fresh  air.  The  minister  recommends  a  girl 
or  young  man  to  spend  certain  hours  in  his  closet  at 
prayer,  when  what  he  really  needs  is  to  take  a  long- 
walk  in  the  country.  It  is  difficult  for  a  sick  man 
to  fulfil  his  social  duties  ;  good  health,  therefore,  lies 


120  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

at  the  basis  of  morals,  manners,  and  religion.  But 
the  conditions  of  health  are  simple ;  they  depend  on 
this  prescription,  composed  of  five  parts,  to  be  taken 
daily:  (1)  Sun;  (2)  air;  (3)  exercise;  (4)  plain,  nour- 
ishing food;  (5)  a  contented  mind,  (liven  these  five 
conditions,  and  if  we  are  not  well,  neither  patent 
medicines,  nor  those  famous  doctors  who  can  only 
stay  in  Boston  a  few  days  longer,  will  avail  us  any- 
thing. 

But  what  is  to  take  us  out  into  the  air  and  sun, 
and  give  us  exercise,  and  the  healthy  appetite  which 
enjoys  plain  food  ?  Only  some  attraction.  We  can- 
not be  driven  out  from  a  sense  of  duty ;  we  must 
be  drawn  out  by  an  interest  in  some  out-of-doors 
pursuit. 

I  knew  a  man  in  Brattleboro',  a  shoemaker  by 
trade,  who  was  rapidly  going  into  consumption.  His 
wise  physician  said  to  him  :  "  Nothing  will  save 
you  but  to  be  out  of  doors  six  or  eight  hours  every 
day.  But  you  will  never  stay  out  of  doors  this 
length  of  time  unless  you  have  something  to  attract 
you,  and  that  something  must  be  some  study.  ( 'house 
some  study,  and  pursue  it."  The  man  chose  botany, 
and  became  familiar  with  all  the  plants  of  his  region. 
In  winter,  he  studied  lichens  and  mosses,  ami  he 
not  only  recovered  his  health,  but  became  oik;  of  the 
first  botanists  in  New  England,  and,  as  far  as  I  could 
see,  his  business  as  a  shoemaker  went  on  as  prosper- 
ously as  before. 

This  leads   me    to   say    that  less  time    uiven    to 


THE  POWERS  OF  OBSERVATION.  121 

business  would  often  enable  us  to  do  it  more  effect- 
ually. Men  stupefy  themselves  by  staying  all  day 
in  their  shops  or  counting-rooms.  Every  human 
being  needs  a  change,  and  God  has  meant  that  a 
part  of  our  life  shall  be  spent  out  of  doors,  in  ob- 
serving the  magnificent  world  which  he  has  created 
for  us. 

Consider,  also,  the  moral  influence  of  the  study  of 
the  natural  sciences.  Nature  feeds  the  soul  inwardly 
with  content.  She  satisfies  us  with  herself.  Go 
into  the  fields  and  woods ;  row  your  boat  on  the 
ocean,  or  the  river,  or  lake  ;  spend  a  day  in  climbing 
a  mountain  ;  pass  a  week  in  the  wilderness,  —  and 
all  cares  seem  to  drift  out  of  your  mind  and  heart. 
What  has  become  of  all  those  anxieties  about  our 
life,  about  our  success  and  failure  ?  What  has  be- 
come of  our  ambitions,  our  desire  for  social  triumphs, 
our  rivalries,  our  small  vanities  ?  They  have  all 
been  washed  away  by  this  bath  of  mountain  air. 
That  tall  pine-tree,  with  its  voice  of  silvery  music, 
speaking  to  us  as  out  of  a  period  before  the  flood, 
has  calmed  our  heart.  We  envy  no  one,  we  are 
jealous  of  no  one,  while  we  see  that  angry  cardinal 
flower  by  the  side  of  the  brook.  Or,  when,  by  night, 
we  watch  the  stars,  and  study  the  vast  constella- 
tions ;  when  we  see,  through  a  telescope,  the  double- 
stars,  purple  and  gold,  shining  like  emeralds  and 
rubies  in  the  immense  depths  of  the  sky  ;  when  we 
see  the  nebula1  composed  of  a  million  solar  sys- 
tems, but  seeming  like  a  soft  cloud  in  the  profound 


1  '1 1'  SEL F-Cl  'L  TL  'RE. 

abysses  of  space,  —  our  anxieties,  our  heats,  our  fool- 
ish fears  and  fond  desires  pass  out  of  us.  What  no 
moral  training  can  do,  this  communion  with  God  in 
his  universe  of  Nature  accomplishes. 

Last  summer  I  met,  in  the  middle  of  New  York,  a 
famous  politician.  To  my  surprise  and  pleasure, 
during  the  day  or  two  which  I  passed  in  his  com- 
pany he  had  no  word  to  say  about  politics,  but  de- 
scribed with  unfeigned  joy  his  early  experience  in 
the  Adirondack  woods,  where  he  spent  winters  in 
camp,  sleeping  in  his  blanket  on  the  snow,  and  en- 
joying the  winter  forms  of  forest  and  mountain. 
No  doubt  he  had  collected  there  some  of  the  force 
and  facility  which  he  afterward  used  in  the  affairs 
of  state.  I  thought  of  what  Mr.  Emerson  said  in 
his  first  printed  book  :  "  The  poet,  the  orator,  bred 
in  the  woods,  whose  senses  have  been  nourished  by 
their  fair  and  appeasing  changes,  year  ai'ter  year, 
without  design  or  heed,  shall  not  lose  their  lessons 
in  the  roar  of  cities  and  the  broil  of  politics,  hong 
hereafter,  amid  agitation  and  terror  in  national 
councils,  these  solemn  images  shall  reappear  in  their 
morning  lustre,  as  fit  symbols  for  the  language  of 
the  hour.  At  the  call  of  a  noble  sentiment,  again 
the  woods  wave,  the  pines  murmur,  the  river  rolls 
and  shines,  and  the  cattle  low  upon  the  mountains, 
putting  the  spells  of  persuasion,  the  keys  of  power, 
into  his  hands." 

There  is  also  a  religious  side  to  our  subject.  God 
has  set  the  members  every  one  in  the  body  as  it  has 


THE  POWERS   OF  OBSERVATION.  123 

pleased  him,  —  eye  and  ear,  touch  and  taste  and 
smell.  He  lias  given  us  faculties  of  observation, 
organs  of  perception,  by  which  to  observe  his  work 
in  the  world.  He  has  also  created  for  us  this  dome 
of  heaven,  these  solemn  fires  of  night,  these  drifting, 
changing  clouds  by  day.  He  has  made  this  earth  so 
rich  and  so  lovely,  with  its  sights  and  sounds,  its 
mountain  precipices,  its  rolling  prairies,  its  vast  blue 
lakes,  its  tumbling  cataracts,  its  ocean  with  long 
swell,  rolling  night  and  day  on  the  shore,  like  the 
perpetual  beating  of  the  human  heart.  He  has 
made  the  varieties  of  plants,  leaves,  flowers,  trees  ; 
the  birds,  fishes,  insects.  Since  lie  has  thought  it  fit 
to  create  this  vast  and  wonderful  world,  shall  we  not 
think  it  worth  our  while  to  see  it.  Is  there  not  an 
irreverence  in  this  ?  Will  not  the  idolaters  who 
worship  the  sun  and  moon  and  stars,  seeing  some- 
thing of  God  in  his  works,  rise  up  and  condemn  us, 
who  spend  all  our  week-days  in  our  shops,  and  go  to 
church  on  Sunday  for  a  sermon,  but  never  lift  up 
our  eyes  on  high  to  see  who  has  created  all  these 
things  I  Wordsworth,  in  one  of  his  finest  sonnets, 
rebukes  this  neglect  of  Nature  thus  :  — 

"The  world  is  too  much  with  us  ;  late  and  soon, 
Getting  and  spending,  we  lay  waste  our  powers ! 
Little  we  see  in  Nature  that  is  ours  ; 
We  have  given  our  lives  away,  a  sordid  boon  ! 
The  sea,  that  bares  her  bosom  to  the  moon, 
The  winds,  that  will  be  howling  at  all  hours, 
And  are  regathered  now,  like  sleeping  flowers  ; 
For  this,  for  everything,  we  are  out  of  tune. 


124  SELF-CULTURE. 

It  moves  us  not.     Great  God  !     I'd  rather  be 
A  Pagan,  suckled  in  a  creed  outworn  ; 
So  might  I,  standing  on  this  pleasant  lea, 
Have  glimpses  that  would  make  me  less  forlorn  ; 
Have  sight  of  Proteus,  rising  from  the  sea  ; 
Or  hear  old  Triton  blow  his  wreathed  horn." 

But  the  powers  of  observation  are  educated  by 
the  study  of  art,  as  well  as  by  the  study  of  nature. 
Every  child  ought  to  learn  to  draw,  as  well  as  to 
read  and  write.  Not  in  order  to  draw  poor  figures 
and  bad  landscapes,  but  in  order  to  sketch  easily 
and  readily  whatever  object  he  sees  and  wishes  to 
remember.  The  power  of  drawing  in  perspective, 
which  can  be  acquired  in  a  week,  is  a  satisfaction 
during  all  one's  life.  Sketching  picturesque  objects 
—  trees,  forms,  faces  —  leads  to  observation,  culti- 
vates observation.  Many  of  us  go  through  the 
streets,  and  see  hundreds  of  faces,  and  never  notice 
them.  Yet  God  has  made  each  human  face  with  its 
separate  expression,  its  own  story.  In  each  one  is 
written  a  prophecy  of  possibilities,  a  history  of  suc- 
cesses and  failures.     Are  not  these  worth  noticing  ? 

I  recollect,  when  I  first  saw  portraits  by  the  great 
masters, — -an  Ignatius  Loyola,  by  Rubens  ;  a  Gro- 
tius,  by  Rembrandt ;  and  those  tender  and  noble 
faces  and  forms  by  Vandyke,  Titian,  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  and  Gainsborough,  —  I  seemed  not  only  to 
have  found  an  art  I  never  dreamed  of,  but  also  to 
have  been  introduced  into  a  deeper  knowledge  of 
human  nature.  A  face  by  Titian  is  like  a  character 
of  Shakspeare,  —  it  is  so  much  added  to  humanity. 


THE   TOWERS   OE  OBSERVATION.  125 

You  read  in  it  a  poem  of  the  soul ;  some  large  and 
generous  purpose,  or  dee])  resolve ;  or  a  struggle 
continued  patiently,  hopefully,  against  overwhelming 

obstacles.  You  look  at  those  portraits  and  go  away, 
and  then  wish  to  go  back  to  study  them  again. 
There  are  faces  in  European  galleries  that  rise  before 
me  now,  like  the  features  of  a  long-lost  friend.  But 
what  is  the  secret  of  that  skill,  but  that  the  artist 
saw- — what  we  might,  also,  have  seen  and  did  not 
see  —  the  hidden  interior  expression,  the  face  behind 
the  fa.ee,  of  the  real  man.  If  we  cared  enough  for 
our  fellow-creatures,  we  should  look  at  them  and 
see  them  as  they  really  are.  Every  face,  which  now 
appears  to  us  as  commonplace  and  tame,  would 
thus  become  profoundly  interesting.  In  the  hum- 
blest and  poorest  we  might  find  some  romance  and 
some  charm.  To  the  person  who  knows  how  to 
look,  the  mask  drops  off,  and  the  real  man  and 
woman  appear.  Love  reads  every  secret  in  the 
changing  expression  of  brow,  lips,  and  eyes.  Love 
watches  the  cloud,  unapparent  to  others,  which  for 
a  moment  darkens  the  sunshine  of  the  smile.  If  we 
loved  our  fellow-men  we  should  notice  them,  and  so 
humanity  and  sympathy  would  educate  the  powers 
of  observation. 

Thus  Christianity,  which  teaches  us  to  love  God 
with  all  our  heart,  mind,  soul,  and  strength,  and  to 
love  our  neighbor  as  ourselves,  tends  even  to  culti- 
vate the  perceptive  faculties.  This  benign  influence, 
descending  into  the  lowest  details  and  crannies  of 


126  SELF-CULTURE. 

human  life,  ennobling  all  nature,  throwing  a  glory 
and  a  glow  over  all  earthly  interests,  calling  noth- 
ing common  or  unclean,  will  vitalize  science,  art, 
literature,  the  intercourse  of  man  with  man,  and 
teach  us  how  to  take  an  interest  even  in  reptiles, 
insects,  and  weeds,  since  these,  also,  are  creatures 
of  God. 

We  have  already  mentioned  how  the  ancient 
Egyptians,  the  most  sharp-sighted  of  men  for  out- 
ward facts,  looked  with  awre  on  the  mystery  of 
organic  life.  To  them  there  was  something  sacred 
in  the  growth  of  a  plant  out  of  a  seed,  and  the 
strange  forms  and  instincts  of  animals.  In  this  they 
were  surely  wiser  than  we  are,  if  we  neglect  to  no- 
tice these  mysteries  of  creation,  and  think  it  not 
worth  while  to  look  at  those  things  which  God  has 
thought  it  worth  while  to  place  around  us.  "  In 
wonder,"'  says  Coleridge,  "  all  philosophy  begins,  and 
in  wonder  it  ends."'  He  who  does  not  see,  with 
admiring  curiosity,  how  wonderful  the  world  is, 
does  not  see  the  world  at  all. 

There  is  one  remarkable  physical  power  in  man, 
the  only  one  perhaps  in  which  he  excels  all  other 
animals.  This  is  the  balancing  faculty,  by  which 
he  is  able  to  stand  upright,  though  naturally  top- 
heavy, —  a  faculty  which  manifests  itself  also  in  a 
variety  of  other  applications.  It  is  the  sense  of 
momentum,  of  equilibrium,  of  resistance.  It  oper- 
ates by  means  of  the  antagonist  muscles,  which  re- 
strain each  other,  modulating  all  motion,  preventing 


THE    POWERS   OF  OBSERVATION.  127 

it  from  being  jerky.  Jerkiness  in  movement  is  awk- 
wardness ;  modulated  movements  are  graceful.  This 
power  modulates  the  voice  in  speaking  or  singing, 
making  speech  fluent  and  not  abrupt.  In  writing  or 
drawing  it  gives  uniformity  of  pressure.  In  music 
it  produces  delicacy  and  precision  of  touch  on  the 
stringed  instrument,  and  a  measured  pressure  of  air 
in  the  wind  instrument.  It  is,  therefore,  a  very  im- 
portant faculty,  and  deserves  to  be  carefully  devel- 
oped. It  is  capable  of  being  trained  to  a  high 
degree  of  perfection,  as  we  see  in  the  case  of  rope- 
dancers,  who  will  stand  with  one  foot  balanced  on  a 
single  wire,  and  keep  four  or  live  plates  in  the  air 
revolving  on  the  points  of  as  many  sticks  held  in 
the  hand.  Mountain-climbers,  sailors  who  lie  out 
on  the  yard-arm  when  the  vessel  is  rolling  in  a  gale, 
slaters  who  walk  on  a  sloping  roof,  —  all  have 
trained  this  faculty.  Its  education  begins  with  the 
first  attempt  of  a  child  to  stand  upright.  This  is  a 
much  more  difficult  operation  than  we  usually  sup- 
pose ;  for  man  is  so  top-heavy  in  his  structure 
that  his  centre  of  gravity  is  almost  always  outside 
of  the  base.  A  statue  of  a  man  standing  on  his  feet 
could  hardly  be  made  which  would  not  immediately 
topple  over.  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  we  are 
always  holding  ourselves  up  when  we  are  standing, 
though  by  an  unconscious  action  of  the  will. 

The  advantage  of  training  this  faculty  is  that  it 
gives  grace  to  all  human  actions.  It  modulates  our 
walk,  speech,  and   writing.     The  man   who  walks 


1 2  8  SELF-  CUL  TURE. 

ungraceful] y  throws  his  foot  forward  with  a  jerk ; 
while  the  graceful  walker  puts  it  forward  with  a 
restrained  movement,  which  is  not  merely  mechani- 
cal, but  dynamical.  The  soul  goes  into  every  act  to 
make  grace.  If  one  remembers  this,  and  avoids  all 
jerky  movement,  he  will  learn  to  walk  gracefully. 
He  will  not  pitch  himself  forward  in  walking,  but 
go  on  with  a  balanced  attitude  of  the  body.  It  has 
often  been  remarked  that  those  who  carry  weights 
on  their  heads  acquire  a  graceful  movement.  The 
reason  is  that  they  are  obliged  to  balance  themselves 
at  every  step.  Dancing  has  the  same  result.  In 
our  common  conversation  Ave  can  give  pleasure 
and  escape  sharp  tones,  by  avoiding  jerkiness  in 
speech.  Such  are  some  of  the  practical  uses  of  this 
sense  of  equilibrium,  a  physical  function  which  has 
hitherto  been  scarcely  noticed. 

Let  us,  then,  thank  God  for  these  powers  of  ob- 
servation, and  employ  them  to  his  glory,  by  educating 
them  to  finer  uses,  and  becoming  better  acquainted 
with  his  creation. 


VI 

THE   EDUCATION   OF  THE   RE- 
FLECTIVE  POWERS. 


VI. 


THE  EDUCATION   OF   THE   REFLECT- 
IVE  POWERS. 


MAX  acquires  knowledge  in  two  ways,  —  by  per- 
ception, or  intuition  ;  by  looking  out  through 
the  senses,  or  looking  in  by  his  intuitions.  By 
means  of  his  perceptive  organs  he  becomes  ac- 
quainted with  the  external  world;  lie  conies  in  con- 
tact with  nature,  society,  history.  By  means  of  his 
intuitions  he  sees  the  truths  of  the  eternal  world, 
the  laws  of  spiritual  being,  abstracted  from  phe- 
nomena. By  the  perceptive  powers  he  comes  in 
contact  with  the  actual  universe ;  by  the  intuitive 
faculties  he  lays  hold  of  the  ideal  universe. 

Knowledge,  therefore,  is  acquired  by  these  two 
methods  ;  knowledge  of  the  external  universe,  by 
perception  ;  knowledge  of  the  internal  universe,  by 
intuition. 

The  reflective  faculties  have  a  different  function  to 
perform.  They  do  not  give  us  any  new  truth  ;  they 
give  no  knowledge.  But  they  arrange,  classify,  sys- 
tematize, put  in  order,  make  accessible,  the  truth  re- 
ceived through  these  other  channels.     They  take  the 


132  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

crude  material  and  manufacture  it,  so  that  we  not 
only  have  it,  but  possess  it ;  not  only  know  it,  but 
know  that  we  know  it,  and  are  able  to  use  it. 

We  do  our  thinking  by  means  of  the  reflective 
faculties.  And  the  chief  intellectual  difference  be- 
tween men  is,  that  some  think  and  others  do  not. 
Some  men  put  their  minds  to  all  they  do  ;  others, 
not.  But  thinking  is  hard  work,  perhaps  the  hard- 
est work  that  is  done  on  the  surface  of  the  planet ; 
and  by  means  of  thinking  all  other  work  is  accom- 
plished. Therefore,  among  all  men,  the  thinkers  are 
the  laboring  classes.  Thought  is  the  most  practical 
and  powerful  of  all  the  forces  now  acting  on  the 
globe,  to  modify  its  aspect.  Civilization  is  another 
name  for  thinking.  Civilized  man  is  thinking  man  ; 
the  uncivilized  races  are  men  perfect  in  body,  in 
powers  of  perception,  in  muscular  and  vital  force,  in 
physical  energy  ;  but  they  do  not  think.  Thinking 
man  lias  conquered  nature.  By  thought,  iron  has 
been  taken  from  the  mine,  and  turned  into  every 
implement ;  by  thought,  steam,  a  giant  with  a  hun- 
dred arms,  makes  cloth,  planes,  bends  and  cuts 
metal,  manufactures  everything  we  need.  It  drives 
ships  over  the  ocean  and  cars  over  the  continent. 
Thought  builds  cities.  Thought  tells  the  lightning 
to  run  its  errand  ;  and  the  lightning,  an  obedient 
fairy,  puts  a  girdle  round  the  earth  in  forty  seconds. 
Thought  tells  the  sun  to  paint  its  pictures  ;  and  the 
sun,  in  Europe,  Asia,  Africa,  America,  photographs 
everything    we    wish   to  see.     Thought  weighs  the 


THE   REFLECTIVE   POWERS.  133 

mountains  in  scales,  and  the  hills  in  a  balance ; 
takes  for  a  measuring  tape  the  distance  between  the 
earth  and  the  sun,  and  with  that  line  measures 
the  enormous  spaces  which  separate  the  sun  from  the 
stars.  Thought  takes  the  globe  in  pieces  and  sees 
how  it  was  made  ;  unfolds  it,  leaf  by  leaf;  reads  how, 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  years  ago,  it  was  covered 
with  an  armor  of  ice  ;  how,  before  that,  it  was  en- 
veloped in  hot  vapors.  Tims  thought  shows  us  each 
act  and  scene  of  the  mighty  earth  drama,  and  intro- 
duces one  set  of  performers  after  another  on  the 
stage  ;  enormous  saurian  reptiles  in  one  act,  strange 
fishes  and  birds  in  another;  till,  at  last,  man  arrives 
"  to  close  the  drama  with  the  day." 

When  I  heard  Dr.  Spilrzheim  lecture  on  phren- 
ology, he  taught  us  that  there  were  two  reflective 
organs  in  the  forehead,  and  that  all  our  thinking 
was  done  by  the  use  of  these  two  little  convolutions 
in  the  front  of  the  brain.  One  of  these  he  called 
"  comparison,"  and  the  other  "  causality."  Xext  to 
"  causality "  he  placed  an  organ  which  he  called 
"  mirthfulness."  Xot  having  looked  into  the  sub- 
ject for  some  years,  I  do  not  know  whether  the 
present  phrenologists  retain  the  same  location  and 
nomenclature.  But  I  remember  being  puzzled  by 
finding  this  sense  of  mirth,  which  is  a  mere  feel- 
ing, having  its  habitat  by  the  side  of  the  grave 
reflective  faculties.  This  led  me  to  examine  the 
subject  more  narrowly,  and  I  came  to  the  following 
conclusion  :    There    are    not  two  organs  merely   of 


1 34  SELF-Cl  'L  Tl  'RE. 

reflection,  but  three.  These  are  the  powers  by 
which,  as  we  say,  we  "put  this  and  that  together." 
The  organ  of  "  comparison  "  has  for  its  function  to 
put  things  side  by  side,  and  examine  them  to  see 
whether  they  are  alike  or  unlike.  It  observes 
resemblances  and  differences ;  it  classifies  and  dis- 
tributes ;  noticing  fine  resemblances  it  becomes  wit. 
In  literature,  it  gives  rise  to  images  and  illustrations; 
it  colors  style,  it  prevents  vagueness,  it  detects  the 
sophistry  which  puts  one  thing  for  another.  This 
power  of  comparison  gives  definiteness  and  clear- 
ness to  thought ;  we  never  can  understand  anything 
well  but  by  comparing  it  with  something  else.  All 
sciences  rest  on  this  as  their  basis;  and  we  see 
the  power  of  this  faculty  especially  in  the  modern 
sciences  of  comparative  philology,  comparative  geog- 
raphy, comparative  theology,  and  the  like. 

The  second  of  the  reflective  powers  in  man, 
"causality/'  dues  not  put  the  two  facts  side  by 
side  to  see  whether  they  agree  ;  but  suspends  one 
on  the  other,  to  see  if  it  can  be  supported  by  it  or 
not,  When  we  perceive  an  event,  we  instinctively 
demand  a  cause.  By  a  primitive  law  of  the  mind, 
we  assume  that  nothing  can  take  place  without  a 
reason.  By  this  power  we  penetrate  into  nature 
and  human  life,  discovering  the  hidden  causes  of  all 
phenomena.  As  science  rests  on  "  comparison," 
which  is  the  faculty  of  exact  observation,  and  which 
gives  us  distinct  phenomena,  so  it  takes  its  sec- 
ond step  by  "causality,"  by  which  it  discovers  law. 


THE   REFLECTIVE   POWERS.  loo 

For  law  in  nature  means  the  regular  action  of  causes, 
producing  always  the  same  results. 

But  now  comes  the  third  organ  of  reflection, 
which  the  early  phrenologists,  noticing  only  one  of 
its  outcomes,  hastily  called  "  mirth  fulness."  It 
ought  rather  to  ho  named  the  faculty  of  "  adapta- 
tion." It  examines  two  phenomena,  to  see  if  they 
are  adapted  to  each  other,  if  they  fit  each  other  as 
the  two  parts  of  a  common  whole,  if  they  are  con- 
gruous or  incongruous.  As  the  siuht  of  incongruity 
produces  the  sensation  of  mirth,  this  organ,  unfor- 
tunately, was  believed  to  have  this  for  its  function. 
But  this  form  of  its  activity  was  not  central.  It  is 
by  this  power  that  we  both  perceive  and  exercise 
design.  It  is  the  fashion,  at  present,  to  ignore  final 
causes  ;  but  this  fashion  must  be  temporary,  for  tele- 
ology is  rooted  in  the  very  structure  of  the  reason- 
ing intellect.  The  whole  human  race  is  occupied 
from  morning  till  evening  in  adapting  means  to 
ends,  and  the  power  which  discovers  this  adapta- 
tion is  the  third  of  the  great  reflective  faculties  in 
man.  All  inventions,  and  so  all  progress,  arrives 
through  this  activity. 

All  these  reflective  faculties  are  exercised  in  the 
common  business  of  life,  as  well  as  in  the  highest 
art  ions  of  which  man  is  capable..  Applied  to 
every-day  concerns,  they  constitute  what  is  called 
common  sense,  or  practical  wisdom.  Let  us  take  a 
very  humble  operation  to  illustrate  this,  —  that  of 
a   cook   preparing   dinner.     She   must   exercise   her 


136  SELF-CULTURE. 

powers  of  perception  with  the  organ  of  comparison 
in  choosing  her  materials  ;  she  applies  the  causal 
faculty  in  applying  the  processes  of  making  dough, 
beating  eggs,  mixing  ingredients,  and  in  determining 
the  amount  and  duration  of  heat.  With  this  pro- 
cess the  faculty  of  adaptation  conjoins  itself,  mak- 
ing the  congruities  of  the  meal  in  its  various  parts 
and  in  its  relation  to  the  number  and  quality  of  the 
guests.  The  faculties  do  not  the  less  act,  because 
they  act  instinctively  and  unconsciously.  Sound 
thinking  consists  in  putting  facts  side  by  side  to  see 
if  they  are  alike  or  different,  to  see  if  they  depend 
on  each  other  or  are  independent ;  and  to  see  if  they 
are  congruous  or  incongruous. 

In  order  to  know  the  outward  world,  it  is  not 
enough  to  perceive,  we  must  also  reflect  on  what  we 
perceive.  The  perceptive  faculties,  without  the  re- 
flective, do  not  give  us  knowledge,  but  only  the  mate- 
rial of  knowledge.  The  sharpest  pair  of  eyes,  looking 
through  a  tropical  forest,  cannot  see  what  is  there, 
unless  there  lie  a  thinking  brain  behind  them.  It- 
sees  a  confused  mass  of  trees,  flowers,  insects,  birds, 
animals  ;  sees  them,  but  firings  away  little  knowl- 
edge about  them.  But  the  mind  which  has  been 
taught  to  think,  to  compare,  to  distinguish,  to  ana- 
lyze, to  generalize  ;  which  has  learned  to  classify 
its  facts,  and  knows  what  to  look  for,  —  this  can  put 
each  observation  in  its  place,  and  bring  away  a  store 
of  knowledge.  The  same  divine  law  applies  every- 
where, "  To  him  who  hath,  shall  be  given."     lie  who 


THE   REFLECTIVE   TOWERS.  137 

has  studied,  reflected,  learned,  and  arranged  his 
knowledge  in  system  and  order,  is  able  to  gather 
other  stores  of  knowledge,  and  add  them  to  those 
already  acquired.  In  order  to  knowledge,  therefore, 
reflection  is  indispensable. 

The  reflective  faculties,  we  see,  are  eminently 
practical.  They  are  not  so  much  for  speculation  as 
for  life.  Xot  even  the  simplest  work  can  be  well 
done  without  them.  You  send  for  a  mechanic  to 
do  some  work  about  your  house.  Suppose  that  he 
goes  to  work  with  his  hands  and  not  with  his 
brains,  lie  then  pulls  down  your  walls,  tears  up 
your  floor,  and  finds,  at  last,  that  he  has  done  it  for 
nothing,  —  he  ought  to  have  done  something  else. 
Another  man  conies,  and  before  doing  anything  he 
stops  and  thinks.  lie  looks,  and  then  reflects  ;  he 
tries  carefully  an  experiment,  and  watches  the  re- 
sult. He  finds,  at  last,  the  cause  of  the  difficulty, 
and  immediately  proceeds  to  remove  it.  That  is 
the  chief  difference  in  all  working-men  ;  some  put 
their  brains  into  what  they  do,  others  do  not.  It  is 
so  with  woman's  work,  too ;  with  sewing,  house- 
keeping, cooking.  How  invaluable  is  thought  in  all 
this,  and,  alas  !  how  rare.  That  is  why  we  say,  let 
boys  and  girls  in  our  schools  be  taught  to  think  ;  let 
them  not  be  drilled  so  much  in  remembering  as  in 
reflecting  ;  lay  more  stress  on  processes  than  on 
results. 

There  is  an  objection  often  urged  against  these 
higher    reflective     faculties    in    their    exercise    for 


138  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

common  objects,  —  that  they  give  theoretical  rules 
which  are  not  practical.  Thus,  if  one  not  actu- 
ally engaged  in  teaching  suggests  any  new  view 
intended  to  improve  the  processes  of  education,  he 
is  apt  to  be  told  that  this  is  not  "practical."  It  is 
sometimes  even  assumed  that  theory  and  practice 
are  opposed  to  each  other.  We  often  hear  it  as- 
serted that  a  notion  may  he  "  true  in  theory  hut 
false  in  practice  ;"  that  is,  useless  for  practical  pur- 
poses. 1,  for  one,  esteem  practice.  1  trace  all  real 
knowledge  to  experience.  I  care  for  no  theories,  no 
systems,  no  generalizations,  which  do  not  spring 
from  life  and  return  to  it  again.  I  feel  perhaps 
undue  contempt  for  the  vague  abstractions  we  often 
listen  to,  idle  figments  of  an  idle  brain,  speculations 
with  no  basis  of  sharp  observation  beneath  them. 
Yet  we  are  in  danger  of  going  too  far  in  this  direc- 
tion, and  of  undervaluing  theory  in  its  proper  limits. 
People  often  eulogize  practice  when  they  only  mean 
routine;  boasting  themselves  as  practical  teachers, 
intending  thereby  that  they  only  do  what  always 
has  been  done,  and  do  not  mean  to  do  any  better 
to-morrow  than  they  did  yesterday.  Practice  and 
theory  must  go  together.  Theory  without  practice 
to  test  it,  to  verify  it,  to  correct  it,  is  idle  specula- 
tion ;  but  practice  without  theory  to  animate'  it  is 
mere  mechanism.  In  every  art  and  business  theory 
is  the  soul  ami  practice  the  body.  The  soul  wit) i out 
a  body  in  which  to  dwell  is  indeed  only  a  ghost,  but 
the  body  without  a  soul  is  only  a  corpse.      1   some- 


THE   REFLECTIVE   POWERS.  139 

times  pass  a  sign  on  which  the  artisan  has  painted, 
"John  Smith"  (or  whatever  the  name  may  he), 
"  Practical  Plumber."  I  should  not  wish  to  employ 
him.  When  the  water-works  in  my  house  get  out 
of  order,  I  want  a  theoretical  plumber  as  well  as  one 
who  is  practical.  1  want  a  man  who  understands 
the  theory  of  hydrostatic  pressure  ;  who  knows  the 
laws  giving  resisting  qualities  to  lead,  iron,  zinc,  and 
copper ;  who  can  so  arrange  and  plan  beforehand 
the  order  of  pipes  that  he  shall  accomplish  the  result 
aimed  at  with  the  smallest  amount  of  piping,  the 
least  exposure  to  frost,  the  least  danger  of  leakage 
or  breakage  ;  and  this  a  merely  practical  man,  a  man 
of  routine,  cannot  do.  The  merest  artisan  needs 
to  theorize,  i.e.  to  think,  —  to  think  beforehand,  to 
foresee  ;  and  that  must  be  done  by  the  aid  of  general 
principles,  by  the  knowledge  of  laws.  An  intelligent 
man,  a  man  of  general  culture,  whose  mind  has  been 
quickened  with  ideas,  will  often  be  able  to  show  a 
mechanic  how  to  do  his  own  work.  When  we  are 
young,  we  have  a  superstitious  faith  in  the  knowl- 
edge each  man  is  supposed  to  have  of  his  own  busi- 
ness. We  outgrow  this  after  a  while.  If  you  wish 
anything  done  about  your  house,  send  for  a  mechanic  ; 
but  overlook  him,  do  not  leave  him  to  himself.  You 
will  presently  find  that  you  can  suggest  something 
to  him  in  his  own  work  which  he  has  never  thought 
of.  All  success  depends  on  practice,  but  all  im- 
provement on  theory.  Let  neither  despise  the 
ot  her. 


140  SELF-CULTURE. 

The  saying  that  anything  "  is  true  in  theory 
but  false  in  practice "  involves  an  impossibility. 
The  theory  indeed  may  be  plausible,  but  false,  and 
then  it  will  not  work  ;  and  its  not  working  is  the 
proof  of  its  being  false.  It  is  neither  true  in  theory 
nor  in  practice.  On  the  other  hand,  a  theory  which 
is  true  may  not  work  at  first,  because  the  true  way 
of  working  it  has  not  been  found  out.  It  is  not 
false  in  practice,  but  practice  lias  not  come.  All 
great  inventions  and  discoveries  have  failed  at  first, 
but  you  cannot  say  they  were  "  true  in  theory  but 
false  in  practice."  They  had  not  been  really  put  in 
practice.  If  anything  is  seen  to  be  certainly  true  in 
theory  it  will  come  right  by  and  by  in  practice. 
Fulton's  steamboat  would  not  work  at  first,  nor  did 
Stephenson's  locomotive,  nor  Daguerre's  sun-paint- 
ing, nor  Morse's  electric  telegraph ;  and  no  doubt  a 
great  many  people  said,  "  Oh  !  that's  true  in  theory 
but  false  in  practice." 

Least  of  all  should  teachers  undervalue  theory  ; 
they  whose  whole  art  aims  at  guiding  life  by  ideas, 
inspiring  the  .soul  with  the  love  of  truth,  awakening 
the  intellect  by  the  sight  of  universal  laws,  and  even 
while  communicating  the  smallest  details  of  knowl- 
edge, teaching  them  by  the  light  of  vital  principles 
of  wisdom.  "We  cannot  teach  a  little  ragged  boy 
his  alphabet  as  we  ought,  unless  we  do  it  with 
the  idea  of  his  being  an  immortal  soul,  made  for 
eternity  ;  and  that  is  a  theory. 

Practical  men  need  outsiders  to  suggest  improve- 


THE   REFLECTIVE   POWERS.  141 

ments  to  them.  We  are  all  much  benefited  by  lay 
criticism.  There  is  lay  criticism  in  all  arts,  and 
it  is  always  needed.  We  saw  in  the  civil  war  that 
merely  military  men  were  not  always  the  most  suc- 
cessful in  military  matters.  Some  of  the  graduates 
of  West  Point  began  by  objecting  to  the  volunteer 
soldiers  and  generals ;  but  they  ended  by  being  com- 
pelled to  see  that  in  war,  as  in  all  other  things,  it  is 
good  sense,  devotion,  and  loyalty  which  succeed. 
Outsiders,  laymen,  can  always  benefit  experts  by 
suggestions,  if  in  no  other  way. 

Let  us  not  suppose,  however,  that  the  education 
of  the  reflective  faculties  consists  in  studying  meta- 
physics, logic,  or  intellectual  philosophy.  These  can, 
indeed,  be  learned  so  as  to  make  the  best  possible 
display  at  a  school  exhibition,  and  yet  no  power  of 
thinking  may  be  acquired  thereby.  It  is  not  by 
committing  to  memory  descriptions  of  the  reflective 
faculties  that  we  learn  to  reflect ;  it  is  by  reflecting. 

We  cannot  obtain  knowledge  without  reflection. 
Still  less  can  we  acquire  wisdom.  Wisdom  is  knowl- 
edge in  its  application  to  the  exigencies  of  human 
life.  Wisdom  puts  everything  in  its  proper  relations ; 
sees  the  due  perspective  of  objects ;  knows  how  to 
distinguish  what  is  essential  and  non-essential,  prim- 
ary and  secondary.  It  judges  each  case  by  its  own 
merits,  not  by  any  abstract  rule.  The  wise  phy- 
sician, for  example,  is  not  one  who  has  a  number  of 
theories  about  diseases  and  their  cures,  which  he 
applies  to  all  cases.      Lather,  he  is  one  who  watches 


142  SEL  F-Ci  'L  Ti  'RE. 

carefully  the  constitution  and  condition  of  his 
patient  ;  narrowly  observes  symptoms  ;  follows  the 
indications  of  Nature  ;  notices  everything,  and  re- 
flects on  what  he  notices.  The  wise  mother  is  one 
who  carefully  studies  the  character  of  her  chil- 
dren ;  who  knows  how  to  gain  and  keep  their  confi- 
dence ;  who  is  their  best  friend,  to  whom  they  go  for 
counsel.  She  is  cautious,  but  not  too  cautious  ;  gives 
them  liberty,  but  not  too  much  of  it ;  watches  them, 
but  not  too  narrowly ;  in  short,  observes,  and  then 
reflects.  The  wise  statesman  rises  above  party,  con- 
quers his  partialities  and  prejudices,  takes  a  broad 
view  of  the  state  of  his  nation,  and  so  steers  the 
ship  of  state  on  its  majestic  voyage.  The  wise 
friend  is  he  who  sees  both  the  good  and  evil  of  his 
friend ;  does  not  become  his  blind  admirer,  but  loves 
him  with  intelligence,  and  so  helps  him  to  correct 
his  faults,  and  to  put  forth  courageously  his  good 
powers.  lie  is  one  who  encourages  all  that  is  good 
in  us,  discourages  all  that  is  evil,  gives  us  confidence 
in  what  is  best,  exalts  our  purposes,  inspires  us  with 
a  generous  ambition,  and  so  gives  us  faith  in  God, 
man,  and  ourselves. 

What  a  blessing  in  any  family,  community,  neigh- 
borhood, is  a  person  who  has  cultivated  this  large 
and  genial  wisdom  !  II'  there  is  one  who  lias  trained 
his  powers  of  thinking,  who  is  able  to  apply  his 
mind  to  any  difficulty,  how  much  good  he  can  do 
by  his  counsel  !  To  him  men  resort  in  their  emer- 
gencies, and  he  gentlv  untangles  for  them  the  skein 


THE   REFLECTIVE    POWERS.  L4o 

of  tlieir  life.  By  a  large  experience  of  the  world, 
by  u  careful  study  of  the  particular  case,  by  a  habit 
of  reflection,  he  is  able  to  guide  the  pour,  lost  souls 
who  have  gone  astray  in  the  wilderness  of  life,  and 
to  set  them  again  in  the  right  way. 

There  have  always  been  some  men  and  women 
who  have  possessed  this  wisdom  of  life  in  an  eminent 
degree.  The  ancient  Germans  selected  such  wise 
women  for  their  advisers  in  all  grave  national  diffi- 
culties. The  mind  of  man  and  that  of  woman  acts 
differently  in  reflection.  The  man  looks  at  the  case 
in  hand,  judges  it  in  its  details,  takes  it  to  pieces, 
examines  it  part  by  part,  and  reasons  out  carefully 
the  necessary  remedy  or  relief.  The  woman's  mind 
is  more  apt  to  work  sympathetically;  she  sees  the 
ea-^e  as  a  whole,  and  keeps  it  before  her  mind  till 
there  arrives  a  distinct  conception  of  what  the  diffi- 
culty is,  and  how  it  can  be  relieved.  Both  methods 
are  good.  Where  there  is  a  long  journey  to  go,  the 
masculine  method,  step  by  step,  is  better.  Where  a 
judgment  is  needed  at  once,  the  feminine  method  is 
surest.  The  best  method  is  that  which  we  call 
common  sense,  —  not  because  it  is  common,  for  it  is 
rare,  but  because  it  needs  no  special  discipline  of 
school  or  college  to  develop  it.  it  conies  from  the 
training  of  life,  and  all  practical  persons  have  it  in 
a  greater  or  less  degree. 

One  book  of  the  Bible  is  devoted  to  the  celebra- 
tion of  this  kind  of  wisdom  ;  that  practical  wisd<  m 
of  life,  in  its  form  of  prudence,  which  says,  "  Neither 


1 44  SELF-  C  UL  TURE 

too  little,  nor  too  much."  The  Proverbs  of  Solomon, 
from  first  to  last,  glorify  prudence.  Their  object  is 
"  to  give  subtilty  to  the  simple,  and  to  the  young 
man  knowledge  and  discretion."  This  book  points 
out,  graphically,  the  evils  into  which  men  fall  who 
do  not  "consider  their  ways."  "A  fool,"  in  this 
book,  is  the  worst  sort  of  man.  Men  are  saved  — 
this  is  the  doctrine  —  by  wisdom.  "  When  wisdom 
entereth  into  thy  heart,  and  knowledge  is  pleasant 
to  thy  soul,  discretion  shall  preserve  thee,  under- 
standing shall  keep  thee.  To  deliver  thee  from  the 
way  of  the  evil  man,  whose  ways  are  crooked;  to 
deliver  thee  from  the  strange  woman,  whose  house 
inclineth  unto  death.  That  thou  mayest  walk  in 
the  way  of  good  men,  for  the  upright  shall  dwell 
in  the  land."  The  result  is  temporal  prosperity  and 
inward  satisfaction.  "  Length  of  days,  and  long  life, 
and  peace,  shall  they  add  to  thee."  "  And  thou  shalt 
find  favor  and  good  understanding  in  the  sight  of 
God  and  man."  "  Honor  the  Lord  with  thy  sub- 
stance, and  thy  barns  shall  be  filled  with  plenty." 
Solomon  urges  obedience  to  parents.  "  My  son,  keep 
thy  lather's  commandment,  and  forsake  not  the  law 
of  thy  mother.  Bind  them  continually  upon  thy 
heart,  and  tie  them  about  thy  neck."  And,  certainly, 
there  is  no  surer  safety  from  the  extravagances  of 
youth  than  this  respect  for  the  experience  of  parents. 
Honesty,  chastity,  cautiousness,  carefulness  in  speech, 
consideration  before  action, —  these  are  the  gods  of 
the  Book  of  Proverbs.  They  are  not  the  Most  High 
God,  but  they  are  very  important  virtues. 


THE   REFLECTIVE   POWERS.  145 

One  thing  may  be  noticed  in  the  Book  of  Proverbs. 
Its  acuteness  often  becomes  wit,  and  makes  one  smile. 
Tims,  notice  such  sentences  as  these  :  "  The  legs  of 
the  lame  are  not  equal ;  so  is  a  proverb  in  the  mouth 
of  fools."  He  does  not  see  its  application  to  him- 
self; one  side  of  the  proverb  limps.  Again:  "As  a 
thorn  in  the  hand  of  a  drunkard,  so  is  a  proverb  in 
the  mouth  of  a  fool."  The  drunkard  does  not  feel 
the  point  of  the  thorn,  nor  the  fool  the  point  of  the 
proverb.  "  Bray  a  fool  in  a  mortar,  his  foolishness 
will  not  depart  from  him."  That  is,  no  amount  of 
experience  will  teach  a  man  who  does  not  reflect. 
"A  continual  dropping  in  a  rainy  day  and  a  con- 
tentious woman  are  alike."  This  outcrop  of  wit  in 
the  heart  of  the  Bible  suggests  this  remark :  All  the 
three  reflective  faculties  have  a  mirthful  side  to 
them.  They  all  put  two  things  together  to  see  their 
relations.  Comparison  puts  them  together  to  see  if 
they  are  like  or  unlike.  Xow,  the  perception  of 
fine  resemblances  and  minute  analogies  constitute 
what  we  call  wit.  If  you  examine  the  sayings  of 
Charles  Lamb,  Sydney  Smith,  and  other  great  wits, 
you  will  perceive  that  what  amuses  you  is  the  sud- 
den perception  of  some  fine  resemblance.  Then  the 
organ  of  causality,  the  second  reflective  organ,  which 
puts  two  things  together  to  sec  if  one  depends  on 
the  other  or  not,  is  the  source  of  that  somewhat 
egotistic  and  hard-hearted  amusement  which  we 
take  in  sarcasm  and  satire.  Causality  is  the  organ 
of  controversy  and  argument,  and  has  always  a  light 

10 


146  SELF-CULTURE. 

sneer  on  its  lips  towards  its  opponent.  It  is  almost 
impossible  to  carry  on  a  controversy  and  treat  your 
adversary  with  respect.  It  seems  necessary  to  turn 
him  into  ridicule,  and  to  prove  his  position  not  only 
false,  but  absurd.  That  is  the  evil  of  argument. 
"Knowledge  puffs  up,"  and  no  kind  of  knowledge 
more  than  formal  knowledge,  verbal  accuracy,  logical 
precision.  "When  we  prove  another  to  have  made  a 
mistake  in  his  statement,  we  are  always  tempted  to 
exalt  over  him.  lie  may  be  right  in  the  substance; 
he  may  be  essentially  right ;  but  if  he  is  verbally 
wrong,  we  decree  ourselves  a  triumph,  and  look 
down  on  him  with  great  self-complacency.  The 
third  reflective  organ  is  that  of  system.  It  arranges, 
classifies,  generalizes,  sees  the  adaptations  of  part  to 
part,  sees  that  which  is  congruous.  Its  mirthful  side 
is  to  see  the  incongruities,  and  \\\\<  creates  what  we 
call  humor.  If  a  well-dressed  man,  who  evidently 
prides  himself  on  his  perfect  neatness  of  costume, 
suddenly  slips  in  the  street  and  falls  into  a  mud 
puddle,  men  laugh.  It  is  hard  not  to  laugh,  because 
of  the  incongruity  between  his  satisfaction  a  moment 
before,  and  his  utter  confusion  afterward. 

But  not  only  virtue  in  its  lower  form  of  prudence, 
but  in  its  higher  aspects,  depends  on  the  culture  of 
the  reflective  faculties.  Our  virtue  is  only  secure, 
only  safe,  when  it  is  rooted  in  convictions.  Take  an 
innocent  boy,  brought  up  in  the  country,  taught  to 
be  good,  good  by  habit,  but  not  taught  to  think  for 
himself,  not  taught  to  see  the  reason  why  lie  should 


THE    REFLECTIVE   POWERS.  147 

do  right.  As  long  as  his  surroundings  encourage 
and  support  his  virtue,  he  is  virtuous.  But  now  let 
him  come  to  a  city,  far  from  his  home  ;  let  him  (Miter 
a  new  society  of  gay  and  reckless  young  men  ;  let 
him  hear  his  old  opinions  ridiculed  as  absurd,  anti- 
quated, puritanical.  His  conscience,  which  had  only 
been  guided  by  the  serious  public  opinion  of  his 
village  into  right  doing,  is  now  guided  the  other  way 
by  the  new  opinions  which  surround  him.  So  he 
drifts  into  extravagance,  intemperance,  licentious- 
ness; his  former  opinions  were  not  rooted  by  thought, 
and  so  were  not  his  opinions  at  all. 

Only  by  habitual  reflection  do  our  opinions,  om 
purposes,  our  sentiments,  root  themselves  in  the  soul, 
and  become  convictions  and  principles.  The  frivolity, 
the  superficial  life  which  men  satirize  as  frequent  in 
women,  is  usually  due  to  the  absence  of  culture  of 
their  reflective  powers  in  youth.  Men  first  insist 
that  women  shall  not  pursue  serious  studies,  but  only 
external  accomplishments,  and  then  they  condemn 
them  for  being  so  frivolous  and  empty.  A  woman 
may  learn  to  think  and  to  exercise  her  judgment 
without  growing  masculine,  or  becoming  a  pedant 
or  a  bookworm.  If  she  does  not  learn  to  think,  she 
necessarily  drifts  and  iloats  on  the  surface  of  society, 
a  pleasant  object  while  she  is  young,  pretty,  and 
fascinating  ;  neglected,  when  she  has  lost  these 
charms. 

The  world  can  never  become  very  much  better 
without  a  greater  exercise  and  culture  of  the  reflect- 


148  SELF-CULTURE. 

ive  powers.  It  requires  some  thinking  to  become 
very  good.  One  may  be  conscientious,  —  his  con- 
science may  be  sensitive,  tender,  active  ;  but  if  not 
guided  by  judgment  it  will  often  become  bigotry, 
fanaticism,  and  cruelty.  How  much  wrong  is  done, 
what  harsh  judgments  uttered  every  day  in  the  name 
of  conscience  !  Men  think  it  their  duty  to  treat  with 
indiscriminate  contempt  those  who  differ  from  them 
in  opinion.  They  think  it  their  duty  to  be  intoler- 
ant, relentless,  and  unforgiving.  A  large  part  of  the 
misery  of  life  comes  from  narrow  and  unenlightened 
conscientiousness.  So,  also,  unrelieetive  good-nature 
often  does  as  much  harm  as  good.  Sympathizing 
persons  with  no  judgment,  hurt  those  they  are  trying 
to  help.  Blind  sympathy  turns  poverty  into  pauper- 
ism by  inconsiderate  gifts.  It  weakens  instead  of 
strengthening  those  it  tries  to  help.  Instead  of  help- 
ing them  to  help  themselves,  it  encourages  them  to 
lean  for  a  time  on  others,  and  then,  at  last,  is  sure 
to  tire  of  supporting  them,  and  to  withdraw  its  help, 
and  so  leaves  them  worse  off  than  it  found  them. 

And,  most  of  all,  in  religion  are  the  exercise  of 
the  reflective  organs  needed  ;  and.  most  of  all,  in  this 
highest  sphere,  have  they  remained  unexercised. 
Men  have  been  taught  that  it  is  wrong  to  think  for 
themselves  on  religious  subjects,  because  thought 
leads  to  doubt.  The  title  for  unbelief  has  been 
"Free-thinking,"  as  if  freedom  to  think  must  neces- 
sarily end  in  disbelief.  But  though  free  thought 
may  sometimes,  for  a  season,  produce  scepticism,  it 


THE   REFLECTIVE   POWERS.  149 

must  in  the  long  run  lead  to  the  sight  of  truth.  God, 
who  has  revealed  truth,  has  given  to  us  our  reason 
with  which  to  examine,  investigate,  define,  and 
arrange  it.  The  best  and  highest  view  of  Christianity 
must  come  from  the  general  exercise  of  reason  in 
regard  to  it. 

We  have  been  taught  that  there  are  mysteries  in 
Christianity  above  human  comprehension.  So  there 
are  in  nature.  But  it  does  not  follow  that  the  stu- 
dent of  natural  science  must  stop,  and  cease  his 
investigations,  because  he  meets  with  something 
mysterious.  On  the  contrary,  this  excites  him  to 
more  active  thought.  Mystery  in  nature  stimulates 
inquiry  ;  why  should  it  not  do  so  in  religion  ? 

The  truth  is,  that  no  form  of  Christianity  will 
convert  the  world  to  Christ  but  rational  Christianity. 
By  this  I  do  not  mean  the  opinions  of  any  existing 
sect  or  school,  but  I  mean  the  Christianity  which 
encourages  thought  and  has  no  fear  of  inquiry ; 
which  recognizes  law  as  universal ;  which  does  not 
ask  for  assent,  but  asks  for  conviction  ;  which  does 
not  claim  submission  to  authority,  but  demands  per- 
sonal faith.  In  all  sects,  in  ail  churches,  I  see  the 
advance  of  this  rational  Christianity.  I  hail  its  ap- 
proach as  the  surest  proof  of  the  triumph  of  Christ, 
and  the  coming  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  The  name 
of  the  wicked  woman  in  the  book  of  Revelation 
was  "  Mystery,"  and  she  was  the  mother  of  abomi- 
nations. But  the  name  of  Christianity  is  Light. 
Christ  is  "  the  Light  of  the  world."     Christians  are 


i  50  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

children  of  the  liglit  and  of  the  day.  Those  who  are 
true  "  come  to  the  liglit,"  and  only  those  who  do  evil 
hate  the  light.  In  the  depths  of  Christianity,  as  in 
the  depths  of  nature,  arc  mysteries,  secrets,  problems. 
But  when  we  find  a  secret  in  nature,  we  do  not 
say,  "This  is  an  awful  mystery;  let  us  humbly 
adore  it,  and  not  try  to  understand  it."  On  the 
contrary,  we  accept  it  as  a  challenge  to  investiga- 
tion; as  a  summons  from  the  God  of  truth  to  .the 
fullest  inquiry.  The  God  of  nature  is  also  the  God 
of  Revelation,  and  in  neither  of  these  spheres  does 
he  ask  for  any  blind  acquiescence,  or  any  torpid 
lethargy  of  thought,  but  for  the  fullest,  freest  exer- 
cise ot  all  our  reflective  powers.  We  must  love  God 
not  only  "with  all  our  heart  and  soul  and, strength," 
but  also  "  with  all  our  mind  and  all  our  understand- 
ing." "  Tare  is  taken,"  says  ( loethe,  "  that  trees  shall 
not  grow  up  to  heaven,"  and  there  is  not  the  least 
danger  that  we  shall  ever  grow  too  knowing  or  too 
wise. 

You  will  observe  that  I  have  given  no  distinct 
directions  for  the  culture  of  the  reflective  powers. 
1  have  all  along  implied  that  they  are  best  devel- 
oped by  practice.  The  right  way  to  unfold  thought 
is  by  thinking.  The  study  of  metaphysics  has  its 
use,  but  it  doe-  nol  necessarily  train  the  thinking 
powers.  Bui  the  habit  of  putting  your  mind  toeach 
iiuestion  as  it  arises,  and  thinking  it  out,  is  the  best 
discipline.  Everything  which  exercises  the  reason- 
ing powers,  whether  it  be  the  study  of  a  science,  a 


THE   REFLECTIVE   TOWERS.  loi 

del  luting  society,  a  game  of  chess,  or  an  intellectual 
game  of  questions  and  answers,  helps  to  develop 
these  faculties.  Perhaps  one  of  the  best  methods  is 
to  read  books  in  which  important  questions  are  dis- 
cussed, and  carefully  to  examine  the  reasons  and 
arguments  as  you  proceed  ;  not  hurrying,  but  going 
very  slowly,  thinking  out  everything  as  you  ad- 
vance. Conscientious  work  of  all  kinds  requires 
reflection,  and  to  do  any  piece  of  work  conscien- 
tiously brings  its  reward  in  culture  and  strength  of 
thought.  Xo  business,  in  which  we  deal  with  men 
or  with  things,  can  be  rightfully  conducted  without 
thinking.  Hut  it  is  always  hard  work  to  think,  and 
the  tendency  ami  danger  is  to  take  tor  granted, 
to  assent  without  investigation,  to  believe  as  others 
believe,  to  drift  with  the  stream.  Nor  is  the  inde- 
pendent thinker  always  agreeable  to  others;  for 
most  men  like  those  best  whom  they  can  easily 
bend  to  their  will. 

The  highest  influence  which  conies  to  educate  the 
power  of  thought  is  the  serious  and  earnest  love  of 
truth.  This  alone  enables  us  to  conquer  our  indo- 
lence, to  resist  the  tendency  to  conformity,  to  oppose 
public  opinion  and  the  fashion  of  the  hour,  and  seek 
for  what  is  real,  looking  for  it  with  our  own  eyes. 
This  is  the  heroic  element  in  human  nature,  which 
makes  those  who  possess  it  the  salt  of  the  earth,  and 
the  light  of  the  world.  To  awaken  and  cherish  this 
love  of  truth  in  ourselves  and  in  others,  to  follow 
after  it   as  Ion"  as  we  live,  this  is  what  has  created 


152  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

the  prophets,  saints,  heroes,  and  martyrs  of  history ; 
and  this  is  what,  in  private  life,  has  purified  souls, 
and  made  them  the  source  of  strength  and  light  in 
the  humble  spheres  of  conscience  and  duty.'  This 
enthusiasm  for  truth  makes  the  eye  single,  and  so 
tills  the  whole  body  full  of  light.     This  is 

"  The  life  of  whate'er  makes  life  worth  living  — 
Seed  grain  of  high  emprize,  immortal  food, 
One  heavenly  thing  whereof  earth  hath  the  giving." 

Truth  quickens  the  soul  in  all  its  faculties.  This 
is  one  of  the  divine  elements  in  human  nature :  the 
other  is  the  divine  element  of  love.  The  two  belong 
together,  and  neither  is  fully  itself  without  the  help 
of  the  other.  Truth  spoken  in  love,  truth  acted  in 
love,  truth  sought  for  lovingly,  truth  held  lovingly, 
these  make  the  complete  man. 


VII. 

niE   INTUITIONAL   NATURE. 


THE   INTUITIONAL   NATURE. 


IPKOPOSE  next  to  speak  of  the  Intuitions  of  the 
Soul,  and  of  that  power  in  man  which  is  capa- 
ble of  perceiving  ideas. 

Outward  facts  we  perceive  through  the  senses  ; 
inward  facts  through  insight,  or  higher  intellect. 
There  are  many  who  adopt  a  sensational  system, 
deriving  all  knowledge  from  sensible  experience, 
and  denying  that  the  soul  furnishes  any  part 
of  our  cognitions.  Locke  argued  against  innate 
ideas,  and  derived  all  our  knowledge  from  sensation 
and  reflection.  But  as  reflection  or  reasoning  fur- 
nishes no  new  intellectual  matter,  but  merely  orders 
and  arranges  what  we  possess,  it  follows  that  Locke 
was  a  sensationalist.  It  is  not  my  intention  to 
enter  into  any  metaphysical  discussion  of  this  sub- 
ject, I  shall  merely  endeavor  to  show,  from  plain 
and  evident  facts,  which  all  can  appreciate,  that  all 
our  knowledge  is  not  derived  from  sensation,  but 
that  some  of  it  comes  to  us  from  the  action  of  the 
mind  itself. 


1 5  6  SEL  F-  C  UL  TURK. 

For  example,  take  the  idea  of  cause.  I  see  a  boy 
strike  a  ball  with  a  bat,  and  the  ball  immediately 
Hies  through  the  air.  I  say  that  the  blow  by  the 
bat  was  the  cause  of  the  motion  of  the  ball.  How 
did  that  belief  come  to  me  ?  Not  through  the  senses, 
certainly.  All  I  perceived  with  my  eye  was  the 
phenomenon  of  the  blow,  followed  by  the  motion  of 
the  ball ;  two  phenomena,  one  following  the  other. 
I  saw  no  cause,  I  saw  no  force  even,  passing  out  of 
the  bat  into  the  ball.  I  only  perceived  succession, 
and  I  inferred  causation  by  an  act  of  reason.  The 
idea  of  cause  did  not  come  from  without,  through 
the  senses ;  it  must,  therefore,  have  come  from 
within,  through  the  reason  itself. 

If  it  is  said  that  a  long  observation  of  such  facts, 
showing  the  invariable  succession  between  impact 
and  motion,  gives  us,  at  last,  the  idea  of  cause,  I 
reply,  first,  that  little  children  who  have  scarcely 
seen  any  phenomena  have  as  lively  a  conviction  of 
cause  and  effect  as  the  adult  man  or  woman.  Little 
children,  as  soon  as  they  can  talk,  begin  to  ask, 
"Who  did  that?"  "Who  made  that?"  And  if 
you  should  tell  them  that  the  action  did  itself,  or 
that  the  thing  made  itself,  they  would  hardly  be 
satisfied. 

But,  beside,  invariable  succession  is  not  the  same 
thing  as  cause.  We  have  seen,  every  year  we  have 
lived,  night  invariably  succeed  day,  and  day  invari- 
ably succeed  night  ;  but  we  have  never  believed  one 
the  cause  of  the   other.     Sleep  invariably  succeeds 


THE   INTUITIONAL   NATURE.  157 

wakefulness,  wakefulness  invariably  succeeds  sleep ; 
but  no  one  thinks  that  sleep  is  caused  by  wakeful- 
ness, or  wakefulness  by  sleep.  Death  succeeds  life 
inevitably  and  invariably.  Does  any  one  suppose 
that  life  is  the  cause  of  death  ?  Invariable  succes- 
sion is  not,  then,  the  same  as  cause  and  effect. 
When  we  perceive,  by  our  senses,  any  phenomenon 
taking  place,  any  event  occurring,  then  immediately, 
by  an  inevitable  act  of  the  reason,  we  infer  some 
cause. 

The  idea  of  substance,  in  the  same  way,  is  given 
by  the  reason,  though  not  by  reasoning,  and  cannot 
be  derived  from  sensation.  I  perceive  some  mate- 
rial substance,  —  a  stone,  for  example,  a  tree,  a  book. 
I  perceive  by  my  eye  only  form  and  color,  outline 
and  shadow.  I  touch  it  witli  my  hand ;  I  perceive 
resistance  and  extension.  These  are  all  sensations 
in  my  own  mind.  How  do  I  know  that  there  is 
some  real  substance  outside  of  me  in  which  these 
qualities  inhere  ?  It  is  an  inference  of  my  reason, 
inevitable,  necessary.  When  we  perceive  by  the 
senses  these  material  qualities,  then,  by  a  sponta- 
neous act  of  the  reason,  we  infer  a  substance,  or 
some  thing  standing  under  them.  We  infer  cause 
and  substance,  however,  not  by  the  reflective  powers, 
but  by  the  intuitive  reason. 

All  men  believe  in  infinite  space  and  infinite  time. 
"W  e  cannot  conceive  of  space  coming  to  an  end 
anywhere.  We  cannot  conceive  of  time  beginning 
or  ending,   for   then   there  would  be  a  time  when 


1 5  8  SEL F- Ci  'L  TL  'RE. 

there  was  no  time.  But  certainly  the  senses  cannot 
perceive  the  infinite.  The  senses  only  perceive  what 
is  finite  and  limited.  Consequently,  the  idea  of  the 
infinite  must  come  from  the  mind  itself.  We  per- 
ceive finite  space,  and  infer  infinite  space  beyond  it. 
We  observe  the  succession  of  minutes,  days,  years, 
and  infer  a  past  eternity  behind,  and  a  future  eter- 
nity before.  This,  also,  is  a  spontaneous  and  inevi- 
table act  of  the  reason. 

Those  ideas  of  the  human  mind  which  cannot  be 
derived  from  sensation  are  intuitions  of  the  reason. 
They  do  not  come  from  reasoning,  for  they  are  the 
basis  of  all  reasoning.  They  are  first  truths,  without 
seeing  which  we  could  not  see  anything  else.  A 
piece  of  reasoning  is  like  a  suspended  chain,  in 
which  link  is  joined  to  link  by  logical  dependence. 
A  weight  hangs  from  the  last  link  ;  that  link  is  sus- 
tained by  the  one  above  it,  that  by  the  next  higher 
up.  But,  as  we  ascend  the  chain,  we  at  last  come, 
not  to  a  link,  but  to  a  staple,  which  is  driven  into 
the  wall.  So  all  reasoning  at  last  brings  us  to  a 
first  truth,  a  truth  of  intuition,  which  is  a  staple 
fastened  into  the  very  structure  of  the  mind.  All 
great  thinkers  have  recognized  these  original  and 
fundamental  truths,  the  heritage  of  the  soul  itself, 
the  birthright  of  man,  which  constitute  him  a 
rational  being.  These  truths  are  self-evident,  are 
believed  naturally,  necessarily  and  universally. 
They  are  incapable  of  demonstration.  Proclus  says, 
"  He  who  thinks  that  all  things  can  be  demonstrated, 


THE   INTUITIONAL   NATURE.  159 

takes  away  demonstration  itself."  Epictetus  says, 
"Whoever  denies  self-evident  truths  cannot  be 
reasoned  with ;  he  has  no  intellectual  modesty." 
Aristotle,  no  less  than  Plato,  asserted  the  existence 
of  these  first  truths  behind  all  reasoning.  They  are 
distinguished  by  two  characters, — universality  and 
necessity.  If  there  is  any  idea  which  we  find  in  all 
men,  working  either  consciously  or  unconsciously, 
and  which  is  so  necessary  that  they  cannot  help 
having  it  even  when  they  try  not  to  have  it,  that 
idea  is  an  intuition  of  the  reason. 

If  I  am  asked,  then,  what  I  mean  by  intuition, 
or  the  intuitional  faculties,  I  reply  that,  beside  the 
powers  with  which  we  look  outward  and  perceive 
the  external  world,  we  have  other  powers,  by  which 
we  look  inward  and  observe  another  world  of  ideas. 
Locke  fought  stoutly  against  the  doctrine  of  innate 
ideas,  and  justly.  A  man  is  certainly  not  born  with 
ideas  of  the  inward  world,  any  more  than  he  is  born 
with  ideas  of  the  outward  world.  Both  are  devel- 
oped by  means  of  experience.  We  have  no  innate 
idea  of  justice  and  goodness,  any  more  than  we  have 
innate  ideas  of  color,  form,  substance,  and  mathema- 
tical proportion.  But  just  as  there  is  an  outward 
world  which  all  men  can  recognize,  so  there  is  an 
inward  world  which  all  men  can  recognize.  Just  as 
all  men,  by  experience,  come  to  know  weight,  exten- 
sion, form,  color,  as  realities  in  the  external  world, 
so  all  men,  by  experience,  come  to  know  justice, 
love,  purity,  as  realities  of  the  spiritual  world. 


1 G  0  SELF-  CUL  Ti  'RE. 

I  have  dwelt  on  these  intellectual  intuitions  to 
show  how  solid  and  real  is  the  knowledge  which 
comes  from  looking  in  ;  to  prove  that  just  as  real 
as  the  outward  world  which  we  perceive  by  the 
senses  is  the  inward  world  which  we  perceive 
through  the  soul  itself.  Fur  as  all  our  knowledge  of 
intellectual  realities  rests  on  intuitions  of  the  reason, 
so  all  our  knowledge  of  goodness  rests  on  intuitions 
of  the  moral  nature,  and  all  our  knowledge  of  reli- 
gion on  intuitions  of  the  spiritual  nature.  The  Apos- 
tle Paul  says  that  spiritual  things  are  spiritually 
discerned.  Just  as  physical  things  are  physically 
discerned  through  the  senses,  moral  things  are  mor- 
ally discerned  through  the  moral  nature,  and  spirit- 
ual things  are  spiritually  discerned  through  the 
religious  nature. 

The  intuitions  above  mentioned  are  intellectual, 
but  another  class  are  moral  intuitions.  There  is  a 
moral  sense  by  which  we  perceive  the  distinction 
between  good  and  bad,  right  and  wrong,  just  as  by 
the  physical  sense  we  perceive  the  distinction  be- 
tween black  and  white.  The  idea  of  right  and 
wrong  is  universal.  There  is  no  man  so  bad  as  not 
to  recognize  evil  in  another,  if  not  in  himself.  AH 
the  world  over,  in  all  lands  and  all  languages,  men 
use  the  words  "  duty,"  "justice,"  "  right," '' wrong," 
"  ought,"  "  ought  not."  Everywhere  there  is  found 
in  man  traces  of  conscience,  rewarding  him  when  he 
does  what  lie  believes  to  be  right,  punishing  him  with 
remorse  when  he  does  what  he  thinks  to  be  wrong 


THE    INTUITIONAL    NATURE.  161 

People  differ  as  to  what  is  right  and  what  is 
wrong.  The  standard  varies,  the  law  differs.  Yet 
there  never  lias  been  a  nation  or  race  which  did  not 
approve  courage,  truth,  generosity,  honesty  ;  did  not 
despise  cowardice,  falsehood,  selfishness,  dishonesty. 
A  North  American  Indian,  a  Spanish  inquisitor,  a 
Southern  slaveholder,  or  an  absolute  despot,  will 
torture  human  beings  from  pleasure,  from  principle, 
or,  as  he  thinks,  from  necessity  ;  but  not  one  of 
them  approves  cruelty  in  the  others,  or  in  general. 
So  men  will  lie,  in  business,  for  their  religion,  for 
their  friends,  for  their  own  safety;  but  no  one  ap- 
proves of  lying  in  itself.  Eacli  man  disapproves  it 
in  every  one  but  himself,  and  in  every  case  except 
his  own  case. 

In  all  souls  there  is  this  instinctive  sense  of  right 
ami  wrong.  If  there  were  not,  morality  could  not 
exist,  and  society  would  be  impossible.  For  moral- 
ity is  nothing  if  it  is  not  respect  for  right  and  duty, 
apart  from  all  rewards  they  may  bring.  A  man  who 
only  does  right  because  he  is  afraid  of  punishment 
if  he  docs  wrong,  or  because  he  hopes  for  some  re- 
ward here  or  hereafter  for  doing  right,  does  not  act 
conscientiously  at  all  ;  he  merely  acts  selfishly. 
Society  is  held  together  by  conscience.  See  that 
laborer,  uneducated,  poor,  who  has  been  working 
ten  hours  a  day  since  he  was  a  child,  and  can  only 
just  support  himself.  What  makes  him  indus- 
trious, temperate,  honest,  orderly,  instead  of  being 
an  idle  wretch,  readv  for  anv  clime  ?     Is  it  the  fear 


1  G  2  SEL  F-  Ci  TL  TUNE. 

of  the  police  and  the  prison  ?  No.  The  great  mass 
of  men  support  order  and  law,  because  they  think  it 
right  to  do  so  ;  because  conscience  tells  them  to  do 
so.  A  few  scoundrels  are  kept  from  being  too 
scoundrelly  by  the  police  and  the  prison  ;  the  great 
mass  of  men  never  think  of  the  police  or  prison,  but 
do  right  because  duty  tells  them  to.  It  is  an  evil 
for  a  nation  when  conscience  takes  the  side  of  rebel- 
lion, when  law  seems  tyranny  !  The  deep  corner- 
stone of  republican  institutions  is  faith  in  a  universal 
conscience.  You  give  all  the  power  to  the  majority 
of  the  people.  "What  is  to  prevent  them  from 
tyrannizing  over  you  ?  The  majority  are  poor,  only 
a  minority  are  rich.  What  is  to  prevent  them  from 
voting  themselves  your  houses  and  lands  ?  Nothing 
but  conscience,  the  instinct  of  right.  Now  we  have 
proved  in  this  country  that  there  are  no  institutions 
so  stable  as  a  democracy.  In  proving  this,  we  have 
at  the  same  time  proved  transcendentalism :  that  is, 
that  all  men  have  a  conscience. 

Besides  the  intuitions  of  reason  and  those  of  the 
moral  nature,  there  are  also  the  religious  intuitions. 
Man  has  the  power  of  looking  into  the  spiritual 
world,  and  of  perceiving  there  Clod  and  immortality, 
divine  beauty  and  infinite  wisdom. 

We  do  not  know  God  by  argument,  by  reading 
books  of  evidences  or  books  of  theology:  we  know 
him  just  as  we  know  the  external  world,  —  by  expe- 
rience. We  know  Clod  by  intercourse  with  him,  by 
looking  up  instead  of  down,  by  looking  through  the 


THE   INTUITIONAL   NATURE.  Lo3 

wonders  and  beauties  of  nature  to  the  infinite  spirit 
beyond. 

"One  impulse  from  the  venial  -wood 
Will  teach  us  more  of  man, 
Of  moral  evil  and  of  good, 

Than  all  the  sages  can." 

Sometimes  we  can  learn  more  of  God  by  a  walk 
in  the  woods  or  by  the  shore,  than  by  all  the  argu- 
ments of  theology.  See  the  infinite  tenderness  of 
the  lights  and  shadows  on  the  leaves,  the  grass,  the 
trunks  of  trees.  Notice  the  soft  tints  on  the  clouds 
winch  drift  over  your  head  above.  Hear  the  sighing 
of  the  winds,  as  they  sing  their  everlasting  song  in 
the  tree-tops.  Sit  on  the  rocks  and  see  the  perpetual 
rush  and  roar,  the  swell  and  heave,  of  the  ocean. 
Then  you  say,  "  Lo  '.  God  is  here,  and  I  knew  it  not ; 
this  is  none  other  than  the  house  of  God,  and  this 
the  gate  of  heaven." 

We  talk  of  inspired  men,  of  men  who  walk  with 
God,  and  see  him  face  to  face.  These,  however,  are 
only  more  highly  endowed  with  that  power  of  in- 
tuition which  we  all  possess.  In  every  heart  there 
is  a  door  which  opens  inward  to  God.  We  leave  it 
closed.  We  look  out,  and  not  in.  So  we  lose  half 
of  our  inheritance. 

Siime  men,  we  know,  have  more  active  perceptive 
powers  than  others.  Some  will  notice  outward  things 
more  easily;  observe  faces,  forms,  events,  witli  great 
facility.  Others,  in  like  manner,  are  born  with  more 
active  intuitional  powers  than  others;  they  have  a 


1 64  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

quicker  sense  of  beauty,  a  more  ready  perception  of 
right;  they  are  more  shocked  by  injustice;  they  are 
more  elevated  by  the  sight  of  goodness;  they  have 
more  ardor  for  truth.  We  take  men  with  active  per- 
ceptive powers  as  our  guides  in  respect  to  outward 
things.  They  see  what  we  cannot  see  in  the  out- 
ward universe.  But  instead  of  taking  the  men  of 
intuitions  as  our  guides  in  the  inward  universe,  we 
are  very  apt  to  call  them  sentimentalists  and  vision- 
aries. They  are  visionaries ;  but  the  visions  which 
come  to  them  are  of  infinite  truth,  beauty,  justice, 
of  the  great  realities  of  the  spiritual  world. 

Woe  to  the  land  and  time  in  which  there  are  no 
such  visionaries  as  these  !  In  such  days  moralists 
repeat  by  rote  their  old  maxims  ;  preachers  recite 
their  lessons  like  school-boys  :  there  are  only  con- 
ventional morals  and  manners,  plants  with  no  deep 
roots.  Such  a  time  is  mentioned  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, "  The  word  of  the  Lord  was  precious  in  those 
days  ;  there  was  no  open  vision."  In  such  times  the 
old  formulas  and  creeds  are  idolized;  men  cling  to 
them  as  their  only  support.  But  in  the  midst  of 
this  dreary  waste  the  Lord  sends  some  new  prophet, 
—  some  Socrates  in  Greece,  some  divine  singers  like 
Dante  or  Milton,  some  man  of  good  sense  like  Dr. 
Johnson  or  Benjamin  Franklin  ;  some  teachers  of 
religion  who  do  not  repeat  by  rote,  but  speak  what 
they  know  and  testily  what  they  have  seen,  like 
Luther,  George  Fox,  John  Wesley,  Swedenborg, 
Channing,  Parker,  Martineau, — and  then  it  is  like 


THE   INTUITIONAL   NATURE.  W>5 

a  breath  of  fresh  air  blowing  in  a  stagnant  miasma; 
new  life,  love,  hope,  speedily  conies  in.  All  men 
feel  this  power;  all  rejoice  in  it. 

This  is  the  secret  of  the  great  influence  exerted 
by  such  men  as  Channing  in  this  country  and 
Schleiermacher  in  Germany.  They  were  both  men 
of  spiritual  insight,  men  of  intuitions,  coming  in  the 
midst  of  a  generation  whose  minds  were  saturated 
by  the  well-worn  commonplaces  of  theology  and 
morals.  Men  had  been  preaching  from  hearsay  ; 
repeating  over  and  over  what  their  fathers  and 
grandfathers  had  said  before.  But  now  there  was 
another  open  vision  of  truth ;  no  wonder  that  it 
idled  men  with  joy  as  they  listened,  and  they  said, 
"  How  beautiful  on  the  mountains  are  the  feet  of 
those  who  publish  glad  tidings  !" 

Bunsen,  in  his  work  called  "God  in  History," 
declares  Dr.  Channing  to  be  one  of  the  prophets  of 
his  time.  Dr.  Channing  came  at  a  day  when  religion 
had  become  very  much  diluted,  had  gone  into  the 
sphere  of  opinion,  which  consisted  of  cold  and  dry 
formulas,  lie  caused  a  great  revival  of  faith  by 
looking  with  his  own  eyes  at  the  truth.  He  was  a 
man  of  a  powerful  intuitional  nature.  He  saw  ideas, 
and  he  saw  them  so  plainly  that  he  caused  others  to 
see  them.  He  saw  the  better  side  of  man  ;  saw  the 
dignity  of  human  nature  saw  that  God  had  made 
man  little  lower  than  the  angels ;  saw,  in  spite  of 
all  the  degradation  and  sin  of  man's  actual  condition, 
that  he  had  divine  and  immortal   capabilities,  and 


1(H)  SEL  F-  CL  'L  TURE. 

was  destined  to  a  great  future.  Hence  he  rejected, 
with  the  utmost  horror,  all  doctrines  of  total  deprav- 
ity and  human  inability  which  darkened  this  great 
idea.  Hence  lie  opposed  human  slavery,  chiefly  as 
a  wrong  done  to  the  nature  of  man,  turning  man 
into  a  thing. 

It  is  not  merely  delight  and  joy  which  such  men 
bring.  They  fasten  anew  to  human  hearts  the  chain 
of  moral  truths  which  bind  us  to  eternity  and  God. 
They  lay  once  more,  deep  and  strong,  the  solid  foun- 
dations on  which  the  interests  of  society,  morality, 
the  worth  of  man,  depend.  These  are  the  men 
who  "  speak  with  authority,  and  not  as  the  scribes." 
These  are  the  seers  who  help  us  to  see.  They  help 
to  make  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth  in  which 
dwells  righteousness. 

In  some  periods  all  spiritual  truth  seems  to  be 
lost  or  fading  away.  It  is  like  the  fatal  time  thus 
described  :  — 

"  I  dreamed  a  dream,  last  Christmas  eve, 
Of  a  people  whose  God  was  Make-Believe, 
A  dream  of  an  old  faith  sunk  to  a  guess, 
And  a  Christian  church  and  people  and  press 
Who  believed  they  believed  it — more  or  less." 

In  such  doleful  days  as  these  God  sends  us  men 
of  intuitions,  and  then,  all  at  once,  the  whole  spirit- 
ual and  moral  world  comes  out  fresh  and  fair,  more 
real  than  aught  beside.  We  see  through  their  eyes, 
are  nourished  by  their  enthusiasm,  our  intuitional 
nature  is  awakened  by  theirs,  and  we,  also,  begin  to 


THE   INTUITIONAL    NATURE.  167 

see  that  God  is  a  living  God,  and  that  Christ  is  a 
living  Saviour ;  that  beauty,  holiness,  virtue,  honor, 
are  not  names,  but  things. 

We  have  had  two  such  men  of  intuition  in  our 
times,  —  two  men  who  have  led  the  English  thought 
back  to  that  divine  spring  which  flows  fast  by  the 
oracles  of  God ;  two  men  still  living,  —  I  mean 
Thomas  Carlyle  and  our  own  Emerson.  Their  power 
over  their  age  consists  in  their  possessing  in  a 
high  degree  this  capacity  of  intuition.  They  do  not 
argue  nor  reason,  but  they  simply  say  what  they  see. 
We  may  not  agree  at  all  with  their  conclusions.  We 
may  differ  greatly  from  their  doctrines.  But  we  are 
willing  for  a  season  to  rejoice  in  that  light  of  which 
God  lias  made  them  mediums,  a  light  which  reveals 
to  us  the  vast  inward  realities  of  the  world  of  con- 
science and  faith.  They  do  not,  perhaps,  con- 
sider themselves  religious  teachers,  and  are  not  so 
considered  by  others.  Carlyle  has  become  cynical 
in  his  later  years,  soured  and  harsh.  But  we  cannot 
forget  his  early  and  better  days,  when  he  did  not 
worship  the  God  of  Force,  but  the  God  of  Justice,  and 
when  his  soul  brought  inspiration  to  men,  convincing 
them  of  the  realities  of  an  eternal  and  infinite  world. 

There  is  an  intuition  of  immortality,  there  is  an 
organ  of  hope  in  the  brain  which  perpetually  looks 
forward.  It  is  the  instinct  of  the  future.  It  teaches 
us  that  there  is  not  less  life  for  us  after  death,  but 
more ;  not  less  of  power,  knowledge,  love,  work, 
beauty,  joy,  but  more.     This  belief  in  the  future  life 


1 68  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

does  not  rest  on  knowledge  or  argument,  but  on  the 
habit  of  looking  forward  in  faith  and  trust.  Some 
have  more  of  it,  some  less.  It  may  be  strengthened 
by  exercise.  We  may  look  at  the  dark  side  or  the 
bright  side  of  things,  as  we  choose.  "We  may  look- 
down  or  up,  we  may  look  at  our  sorrows  and  trials. 
or  at  our  joys.  All  depends  on  this.  By  looking  at 
the  dark  side,  everything  looks  worse  and  worse ; 
Ave  lose  the  power  of  seeing  good.  AVe  see  only 
what  is  selfish,  cold,  and  hard  in  men;  only  what  is 
dark  and  terrible  in  the  universe.  Seek  and  you 
shall  find.  You  have  what  you  look  after.  As  a 
man  sows,  so  shall  he  reap.  A  man  may  think  that 
he  believes  in  a  future  life  because  of  the  arguments 
in  its  favor;  he  may  think  that  he  disbelieves  it 
because  he  has  been  convinced  by  the  arguments 
against  it.  Xo.  He  believes  it  because  he  has 
established  the  habit  of  looking  at  the  good  side  of 
things ;  because  he  has  exercised  and  educated  his 
organs  of  faith  and  hope.  He  disbelieves  it  be- 
cause he  has  not  exercised  and  educated  them. 

There  are  prophets,  seers,  inspired  souls,  in  all 
religions  and  in  all  nations.  They  are  those  in 
whom  these  intuitions  of  conscience,  faith,  hope,  and 
love  are  strong.  They  are  the  men  of  intuition, 
who  see  through  their  inward  eye,  not  their  out- 
ward eye.  They  have  not  believed  as  every  one 
else  believed,  but  have  looked  into  their  own  souls 
for  truth,  and  have  found  it.  They  have  seen  God 
face  to  face,  and  he  has  talked  with  them,  as  a  man 


THE   INTUITIONAL   NATURE.  1  li'.i 

talks  with  a  friend.  In  the  darkness  of  night  they 
have  seen  the  approaching  twilight  and  the  rose  of 
dawn,  and  have  announced  to  all  men  the  coming 
day.  They  hold  up  the  heart  of  nations  ;  they  come, 
in  great  emergencies,  to  add  faith  and  fire  to  noble 
resolutions  ;  they  suiter  and  die  for  their  convic- 
tions, and  so  inspire  others  with  a  like  resolution. 
These  are  the  prophets  who  have  been  since  the 
world  began;  the  prophets,  unrecognized  in  their 
own  time,  despised  and  rejected  of  men,  but  heralds 
of  every  great  advance  of  the  human  race.  Their 
power  lies  in  the  strength  of  their  intuitions.  They 
see  God,  truth,  justice,  and  beauty  as  realities,  not  as 
probabilities.  Inspired  by  these  visions,  they  are 
ready  to  speak  their  word,  whether  men  will  hear 
or  whether  they  will  forbear.  They  die  in  obscu- 
rity, perhaps,  and  dei'eat ;  but  their  lightest  words 
live  and  conquer  the  world,  and  grow  up  into  great 
trees,  in  which  all  the  birds  of  the  air  find  rest. 

But  the  gift  of  prophetic  vision  is  not  merely  to 
make  great  teachers  of  the  human  race  ;  it  is  for 
practical  daily  life  and  common  duty.  Some  men 
see  only  the  outside  of  the  world  ;  others  see  all 
that,  and  see,  also,  the  ideas  which  rule  the  world. 
Those  who  are  commonly  called  worldly  wise  are 
only  half  wise  ;  their  wisdom  has  no  roots  and  prin- 
ciples ;  it  grows  from  the  shifting  sands  of  tempo- 
rary expediency.  But  everywhere  in  society  there 
are  men  who  see,  not  only  outward  facts,  but  also 
ideas  and  truths.     They  see  justice,  goodness,  hon- 


170  SELF-  CUL  TURE. 

esty,  integrity  as  realities,  not  merely  as  conven- 
tional arrangements.  These  men  are  the  only  really 
moral  and  religious  men  in  the  land ;  the  only  ones 
whose  religion  and  virtue  have  roots.  They  would 
believe  in  truth  if  all  mankind  beside  themselves 
disbelieved  it;  they  would  do  right  if  the  universal 
custom  was  to  do  wrong.  Such  men  and  women, 
wherever  they  are,  are  the  salt  of  the  earth  and  the 
light  of  the  world. 

The  intuitional  nature  needs  education,  and  can 
be  educated,  like  the  perceptive  powers.  We  are 
helped  to  spiritual  insight  by  communion  with  the 
souls  whom  God  inspires  to  see  realities.  Their 
faith  arouses  ours.  It  is  a  true  instinct  which 
causes  mankind  to  cleave  to  its  prophets,  poets, 
seers,  and  great  moralists.  Their  life  feeds  the  world. 
Men  eat  and  drink  them,  and  become  spiritually 
alive  themselves. 

But  our  intuitional  nature  is  also  educated,  and 
that  most  efficiently,  by  obedience  to  our  insights. 
The  man  who  listens  to  the  voice  of  conscience  in 
his  soul  hears  it  afterward  more  distinctly.  If  he 
refuses  to  listen  to  it,  his  ear  becomes  dull  to  that 
divine  melody.  He  who  never  looks  up  to  a  living 
God,  to  a  heavenly  presence,  loses  the  power  of 
perceiving  that  presence,  and  the  universe  slowly 
turns  into  a  dead  machine,  clashing  and  grinding 
on,  without  purpose  or  end.  If  the  light  within  us 
be  darkness,  how  great  is  that  darkness  ! 

The  best  culture  of  the  intuitive  faculties  consists 


THE   INTUITIONAL   NATURE.  1,1 

in  using  them.  The  same  law  applies  to  these  as  to 
all  our  other  faculties,  —  use,  improve  or  lose.  A 
man  who  always  looks  down,  never  up,  loses,  at  last, 
the  power  of  looking  up  A  man  who  always  looks 
out,  never  in,  loses  the  power  of  looking  in.  We 
must  look  at  the  things  not  seen;  we  must  accus- 
tom ourselves  to  visions  of  infinite  majesty,  beauty, 
ami  truth.  All  in  this  life  is  not  logic ;  all  is  not 
sensation.  There  is  a  place  in  it  for  faith,  hope,  and 
love. 


VIII. 


THE     IMAGINATION, 


vni. 

THE   IMAGINATION. 


MANY  persons  think  the  imagination  deserves 
rather  to  be  repressed  than  to  he  cultivated. 
They  regard  it  as  dealing  only  with  dreams,  not  re- 
alities, and  so  tending  to  unfit  a  person  for  actual 
life.  Its  realm  they  suppose  to  he  the  world  of 
fairies,  and  of  other  impossihilities.  At  best,  they 
will  allow  its  use  only  to  artists  and  poets,  and  they 
conceive  its  principal  function  to  be  the  production 
of  rather  commonplace  pictures  and  poems. 

But  the  imagination  is  one  of  the  faculties  which 
(rod  has  given  to  all  men.  It  is  a  part  of  human 
nature,  and  was  certainly  put  into  lis  for  some 
important  purpose.  My  object  now  is  to  find  what 
this  purpose  is,  for  what  end  the  imagination  was 
given,  and  how  it  is  to  be  used ;  what  are  its  abuses, 
and  what  its  dangers ;  how  it  is  to  be  cultivated,  and 
how  restrained. 

But  first  we  must  try  to  say  what  the  imagination 
is.  It  is  the  ideal  faculty,  that  which  perceives 
ideals,  and   helps   us    to    realize    them.     It    is    the 


176  SELF-CULTURE. 

power  which  makes  a  picture  or  image  in  the  mind 
of  something  not  perceived  by  the  senses ;  a  type  of 
something  more  perfect  than  the  reality,  and  a  type 
which  is  necessary  for  all  work  which  requires  skill 
and  aims  at  excellence.  It  gives  us  a  vision  of  the 
perfect  in  the  midst  of  imperfection,  of  pure  beauty 
amid  what  is  rude  and  homely. 

The  importance  which  the  Creator  attributes  to 
the  culture  of  the  imagination  appears  from  the 
great  activity  given  to  it  in  childhood.  The  plays 
of  children  all  exercise  and  educate  this  power.  A 
little  girl  playing  with  her  doll,  —  what  is  she 
doing  ?  She  imagines  the  doll  to  be  alive,  ima- 
gines herself  to  be  its  mother ;  she  talks  with  it, 
feeds  it,  puts  it  to  bed,  dresses  and  undresses  it ;  in 
short,  carries  on  a  little  drama,  imagining  herself 
and  the  doll  to  be  the  actors.  See  children  at 
play ;  everything  is  imaginary ;  they  put  together 
chairs,  and  imagine  them  to  be  ships,  or  railroad 
cars,  or  houses,  or  forts.  They  imagine  themselves 
into  all  the  concerns  of  life  ;  they  play  at  weddings, 
funerals,  wars,  trade.  Thus  the  plays  of  children 
are  endless  imitation,  and  the  constant  exercise  of 
the  ideal  faculty. 

And  this  is,  all  of  it,  a  preparation  for  their  work 
in  life.  For  all  work,  to  be  done  well,  requires  the 
use  of  this  power.  All  work  which  is  not  mere 
routine  and  drudgery  must  be  done  with  an  ideal 
held   before  the  mind,  as  a  pattern. 

1  therefore  believe  that  the  imagination  is  a  very 


THE   IMAGINATION.  177 

practical,  useful,  and  important  faculty,  given  to  all 
men,  and  necessary  to  all  men ;  and,  moreover,  that 
it  is  a  faculty  which  can  and  ought  to  be  educated. 

Without  attempting  to  define  the  imagination, 
then,  we  can  see  what  it  is  in  its  operation.  As  the 
object  of  the  perceptive  faculties  are  forms,  colors, 
sounds,  perfumes,  or  outward  sensible  phenomena ; 
as  the  object  of  the  reflective  faculties  are  the  laws 
of  likeness  and  unlikeness,  cause  and  effect,  adapta- 
tion and  incongruity,  —  so  the  object  of  the  imagi- 
nation is  beauty.  The  senses  perceive  facts,  the 
reason  perceives  laws,  the  imagination  perceives  the 
ideal  or  the  perfect  in  all  things,  —  physical,  mental, 
moral,  spiritual. 

We  may  also  say  that  while,  as  an  intellectual 
faculty,  the  imagination  gives  us  the  knowledge  of 
the  beautiful,  so  as  a  practical  power  it  creates  art. 
In  its  method  it  belongs  to  those  high  functions  of 
the  soul  which  tend  to  union,  instead  of  division; 
which  do  not  see  things  scattered  and  separated,  but 
harmonized  and  united.  Thus  the  reason  sees  truth 
as  one  law  binding  all  things  together ;  the  moral 
nature  sees  one  goodness  uniting  all  souls  in  love ; 
and  the  imagination  sees  one  perfect  beauty  pervad- 
ing nature  and  life. 

The  work  of  the  imagination,  T  said,  is  art.  But 
art  is  simply  doing  a  thing  as  well  as  it  can  be  done; 
doing  it  according  to  an  ideal  in  the  soul;  having 
in  the  mind  the  image  of  the  whole  while  working 
on  the  parts.     There  is  no  work  which  can  be  done 


178  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

well  without  a  constant  exercise  of  the  imagination. 
A  carpenter  cannot  build  a  house  without  keeping 
in  his  mind  the  idea  of  the  whole  house  while 
working  on  the  parts.  A  blacksmith  can  make  a 
horseshoe  only  by  the  help  of  imagination,  for  he 
must  hold  in  his  mind  the  image  of  the  horseshoe 
to  guide  him  while  hammering  it  out  on  the  anvil 
from  the  rude  bar  of  red-hot  iron.  Thus  the  com- 
monest labor  may  become  a  work  of  art.  The 
common  sense  of  mankind  has  put  this  into  a 
proverb,  — "  Whatever  is  worth  doing  at  all,  is 
worth  doing  well."  But  you  can  do  nothing  well 
unless  you  have  an  ideal  of  how  it  ought  to  be 
done  ;  and  this  comes  by  the  action  of  the  imagina- 
tion. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that,  in  order  to  be  an 
artist,  it  is  necessary  to  paint  pictures,  carve  statues, 
build  cathedrals,  or  write  poems.  Beauty  is  by  no 
means  confined  to  these  objects  ;  wherever  there  is 
proportion,  finish,  harmony,  thoroughness,  unity, 
there  is  beauty.  What  more  beautiful  than  a  ship 
under  sail !  What  fine  proportions,  what  exact  sym- 
metry, in  the  moulding  of  the  hull,  in  the  rake  of 
the  masts,  in  the  symmetry  of  the  spars,  in  the 
drawing  of  the  sails  !  A  splendid  ship  under  sail  is 
as  beautiful  as  the  Apollo  Belvidere,  and  a  great 
deal  more  beautiful  than  most  of  the  statues  with 
which  we  adorn  our  public  grounds  and  public 
buildings.  For  a  ship  means  something:  it  means 
the  power  which  yields  to  the  storm  and  sea,  and  so 


THE  IMAGINATION.  170 

conquers  them,  and  compels  them  to  serve;  it ;  which 
rides  on  the  mighty  billows,  and  shows  the  triumph 
of  mind  over  matter.  But  most  statues  mean  nothing 
at  all. 

"When  the  great  Gothic  cathedrals  were  built,  no 
one  thought  of  calling  them  works  of  art.  Xor 
were  the  Greek  temples  built  as  works  of  art; 
they  were  built  for  worship.  The  Gothic  minsters, 
also,  were  built  for  worship,  and  their  form  came  from 
a  desire  to  carry  out  an  ideal  in  the  best  way  and  at 
the  smallest  expense  of  materials.  Their  builders 
were  no  more  thought  artists  than  we  consider  a  ship- 
builder one.  Nor  were  Shakspeare's  plays  regarded 
as  works  of  art  by  his  contemporaries.  They  were 
delightful  amusements  for  an  afternoon,  that  was  all 
But  to  build  a  ship,  a  cathedral,  or  a  play,  one  must 
put  his  imagination  into  it;  have  the  image  in  his 
mind  of  what  he  wants  to  accomplish,  and  hold 
firmly  to  his  ideal  while  he  works  out  the  details. 
The  result  is  unity  in  variety,  a  harmonious  whole  ; 
in  short,  beauty. 

In  dealing  with  men,  imagination  is  a  very  prac- 
tical faculty,  and  very  necessary.  By  imagination 
you  enter  into  their  state  of  mind  ;  see  how  they 
feel,  what  they  think,  and  what  they  mean  to  do. 
For  example,  in  war,  the  general  must  put  himseli 
iu  place  of  his  enemy,  and  by  force  of  imagination 
discover  his  plans.  All  great  generals  —  Hannibal, 
the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  Xapoleon  —  have  had 
this  gift  in  a  high  decree. 


180  SELF-CULTURE. 

All  inventors  and  discoverers  are  obliged  to  use 
the  imagination.  They  see  their  invention  as  an 
ideal  and  image  long  before  they  are  able  to  put  it 
in  practice.  This  image  is  so  luminous  that  it  en- 
courages them  to  persevere,  in  spite  of  ridicule  and 
repeated  failure,  and  at  last  success  comes.  Few  of 
the  great  modern  inventions  would  have  been  made 
if  man  had  been  destitute  of  this  faculty. 

All  occupations,  to  be  done  well,  require  the  con- 
stant use  of  the  imagination.  By  means  of  it  the 
physician  puts  himself  into  his  patient's  place,  ima- 
gines how  he  feels,  and  so  discovers  what  he  needs. 
The  lawyer  puts  himself  into  the  place  of  Ins  client, 
the  judge,  the  jury,  and  the  opposing  counsel,  and 
imagines,  in  turn,  what  each  will  think  and  feel. 
The  orator  puts  himself  in  the  place  of  his  hearers, 
in  order  to  move  them.  The  merchant  makes  a 
picture  in  his  mind  of  the  world's  needs,  and  puts 
himself  in  the  place  of  his  customer.  "Without 
imagination,  social  intercourse  grows  dry  and  hard, 
and  human  life  is  despoiled  of  charm. 

So,  in  science,  the  imagination  foresees  the  law 
which  is  to  bind  the  phenomena  together  long  before 
it  can  lie  established  by  proofs.  Kepler  and  Xew- 
ton  had  a  vision  of  harmony  in  the  heavens,  of  vast 
laws  regulating  the  movements  of  the  planets,  years 
before  they  were  able  to  demonstrate  them.  The 
imagination,  in  science,  is  John  the  Baptist  prepar- 
ing the  way  for  law,  which  is  to  come  after.  It  also 
partakes  of  the  nature  of  faith,  and  is  the  evidence 


THE    IMAGINATION.  18] 

of  things  not  seen.  The  undiscovered  invention,  or 
law,  which  we  are  seeking,  seems  so  beautiful  in 
vision  that  we  believe  it  must  be  found,  and  so  per- 
severe till  we  find  it.  The  ideal  marches  before  the 
mind,  a  cloud  by  day  and  a  pillar  of  fire  by  night, 
guiding  us  into  the  promised  land.  The  imagina- 
tion is  the  prophetic  soul  which  dreams  of  things  to 
come,  and  is  always  making  a  new  heaven  and  a 
new  earth. 

It  would  be  a  great  gain  to  theology  if  the  inter- 
preters of  the  Scriptures  had  usually  more  imagina- 
tion, and  were  able  to  throw  themselves  into  the 
state  of  the  times,  and  make  a  picture  of  the  con- 
dition of  things.  They  are  apt  to  explain  the 
Scriptures  by  dictionary  and  grammar.  But  merely 
by  the  help  of  grammar  and  dictionary  one  cannot 
enter  into  the  mind  of  Christ,  or  into  that  of  Paul. 
How  much  mischief  has  been  done  by  prosaic  com- 
mentators interpreting  texts  in  too  literal  a  way  ! 
If  a  teacher  tells  you  that  such  and  such  a  book  will 
feed  your  mind,  you  know  well  enough  what  he 
means  by  help  of  your  imagination.  But  when 
Jesus  says,  "  You  must  eat  me  ami  drink  me  in 
order  to  get  any  life  out  of  me,"  men  have  supposed 
he  is  to  be  literally  eaten,  and  have  burned  and  tor- 
tured thousands  for  doubting  it.  If  you  hear  a  man 
say,  "There  is  no  end  to  the  evil  which  comes  from 
such  conduct,"  or  if  he  says  that  "man's  passions 
are  a.  tire  which  nothing  can  put  out,"  you  simply 
suppose  lie  means  that  the  consequences  are  very 


182  SELF-CULTURE. 

grave  and  terrible.  But  when  Jesus  says  that  those 
who  refuse  to  feed  the  hungry  and  clothe  the  naked 
will  go  into  eternal  punishment,  and  that  their  fire 
will  never  be  quenched,  the  theologians,  with  dic- 
tionary and  grammar,  insist,  perhaps  too  peremp- 
torily, that  he  must  necessarily  teach  never-ending 
punishment  hereafter.  When  an  ambassador  says, 
"  If  you  show  disrespect  to  me,  it  is  shoving  dis- 
respect to  my  government,"  we  do  not  understand 
him  to  say  that  he  is  the  government.  But  when 
Jesus  says  that  "  all  men  must  honor  the  Son  even 
as  they  honor  the  Father,"  the  dictionary  and  gram- 
mar theologians  declare  that  this  is  the  only  legiti- 
mate inference.  If  a  patriot  says,  "  I  can  forgive 
you  for  ill-treating  me,  but  I  cannot  forgive  you 
for  betraying  my  country  ;  that  is  an  unpardonable 
sin,"  we  do  not  hold  him  to  the  letter ;  but  we  take 
Jesus  literally  when  he  says,  "  If  you  say  anything 
against  me  it  can  be  forgiven,  but  not  if  you  are 
false  to  the  spirit  of  truth  in  your  own  soul. 
That  is  an  unpardonable  sin  in  this  world  and 
every  other  world."  This  is  why  Paul  says  "  The 
letter  killeth."  It  has  been  remarked  that  nothing 
lies  like  a  fact;  so,  we  may  say,  nothing  is  so  false 
as  the  interj >retation  which  sticks  in  the  letter. 
AVe  never  can  understand  the  Scripture  until  we 
give  up  the  notion  that  Jesus  is  always  in  a  pulpit 
preaching  a  sermon.  He  walked  in  the  streets,  and 
talked  with  common  people  in  their  own  way  ; 
and  till  we  throw  ourselves,  by  force  of  imagination, 


THE   IMAGINATION.  183 

into  the  scenes  and  the  time,  we  fail  of  seeing 
his  truth. 

In  morals,  also,  the  imagination  is  very  necessary. 
You  cannot  be  just  to  another  person  if  you  merely 
observe  what  he  says  and  does;  you  must  put  your- 
self in  his  place,  and  see  things  from  his  point  of 
view.  Prosaic  persons  are  often  unjust,  hard,  cruel, 
unforgiving,  simply  from  this  defect.  They  cannot 
identify  themselves  with  the  offender  so  as  to  under- 
stand the  force  of  circumstances  and  the  power  of 
the  temptation.  They  only  see  what  is  done,  not 
what  is  resisted.  To  sympathize  witli  a  person  who 
is  different  from  yourself  requires  an  act  of  the 
imagination.  You  must  '"'put  yourself  in  his  place;" 
then  you  feel  with  him,  and  so  can  feel  for  him.  A 
great  deal  of  the  selfishness  of  the  world  comes  not 
from  bad  hearts,  but  from  languid  imaginations. 

The  imagination  is  not  only  a  moral,  but  a  religious 
faculty.  God  is  revealed  not  only  by  the  prophets 
who  teach  his  truth,  but  by  the  universe  which 
shows  him  in  its  beauty.  AVe  do  not  see  God  as  we 
ought,  if  we  only  see  him  in  the  Bible  and  not  in 
nature.  God  has  fdled  the  world  with  beauty  to 
overflowing,  —  superabounding  beauty.  He  has 
manifested  himself  in  suns  and  storms,  in  stars  and 
llowers,  in  the  majestic  order  of  the  universe,  in  the 
infinite  variety  of  creation.  And  if  we  do  in  it  see 
this,  we  do  not  see  his  working.  Nature  plies  ever- 
more at  the  roaring  loom  of  time  to  weave  a  garment 
bv   which    we    mav   see   God.      Ami    then,   because 


1 84  SELF-Cl  ~L  TURE. 

"  the  world  is  too  much  with  us,"  we  are  out  of  tune 
for  it  all,  and  it  does  not  move  us.  Therefore,  the 
great  Christian  poet  declares  he  had  rather  be  a 
Pagan  suckled  in  an  outworn  creed,  for  then  he 
might  catch  a  glimpse  of  something  divine  in  nature, 
—  of  Proteus  rising  from  the  sea,  or  Triton  blowing 
his  horn. 

To  see  (rod  in  the  order,  variety,  majesty,  tender- 
ness of  the  universe  will  save  us  from  superstitious 
terrors.     This  gives  us  a  sense 

"  Of  something  far  more  deeply  interfused, 
Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns. 
A  motion  and  a  spirit,  which  pervades 

All  living  things,  all  objects  of  all  thought, 
And  rolls  through  all  things.'' 

And  this  will  drive  away  the  foul  terrors  of  hell, 
and  the  narrow  doctrines  which  make  God  a  tyrant 
and  man  a  slave.  Our  bigotry  fades  away  as  we 
look  at  the  midnight  stars  and  at  the  rising  sun  ; 
our  anxiety  leaves  us  as  we  feel  the  gentle  gradations 
of  autumnal  tints,  and  the  slow  decay  of  the  dying 
year.  God  seen  in  nature  corrects  the  superstitions 
born  of  the  narrowness  of  human  creeds. 

The  imagination  may  be  educated  by  the  sight  of 
beauty,  and  by  making  all  our  own  life  beautiful; 
that  is.  by  receiving  and  giving  the  beautiful. 

All  men  have'  tin;  power  of  seeing  beauty.  If  we 
love  it,  and  look  for  it,  we  shall  see  it  everywhere. 
The  great  law,  "  Seek  and  ye  shall  find,"  applies  here 
as  in  other  tilings.     Some  men   pass  their  lives  in 


THE   IMAGIXATlOiV.  185 

ugliness,  seeing  only  ugly  objects  everywhere.  Others 
ure  always  surrounded  by  beauty.  The  reason  is 
that  some  have  cultivated  the  habit  of  looking  for 
it,  others  not.  Milton  lived  in  London,  but  he  saw 
more  beauty  in  one  morning's  walk  in  the  country 
than  many  country  people  observe  in  all  their  lives. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  go  to  Switzerland  in  order  to 
find  the  Alps.  You  can  see  them  after  any  thunder- 
storm in  summer.  Then  the  departing  masses  of 
cloud,  bathed  by  the  western  sun,  swell  into  vast 
snow-mountains,  and  roll  up  into  great  glaciers  and 
fields  of  ice. 

We  also  educate  the  imagination  by  creating  good 
things  and  beautiful  things.  Every  man  is  an  artist 
who  tries  to  do  his  work  perfectly,  for  its  own  sake, 
and  not  merely  because  of  what  he  can  get  by  it.  He 
gets  a  great  deal  more  this  way  than  he  will  in  any 
other.  Every  man  can  turn  his  life  into  poetry, 
romance,  art,  by  living  according  to  an  ideal  stand- 
ard.  He  may  be  a  day-laborer,  a  mechanic,  a  sweeper 
of  street-crossings  ;  but,  if  he  puts  his  soul  into  his 
work,  his  work  becomes  a  line  art.  Xo  one  may 
notice  it,  but  he  notices  it  himself,  and  I  think  that 
God  and  the  angels  notice  it  also. 

There  is  an  old  Norse  story  of  a  blacksmith  who 
sold  himself  to  the  devil  on  condition  that,  during  a 
certain  number  of  years,  he  might  be  the  best  black- 
smith in  the  world.  So  over  his  shop-door  he  wrote, 
"  Voland  the  Smith,  Master  of  Masters."  One  day 
Jesus  Christ  came  in,  and  said  he  could  teach  him 


186  SELF-CUL  Tl  'RE. 

something  he  did  not  know,  and  showed  him  a 
better  way  of  shoeing  a  horse  than  he  had  ever  seen. 
Voland,  in  delight  at  seeing  this  better  way,  forgot 
his  vanity  and  pride,  and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  be 
a  scholar,  and  sit  at  the  feet  of  this  greater  Master. 
Then  Jesns  said  :  "  Xow  you  have  escaped  from  the 
power  of  the  devil,  for  you  have  learned  a  better 
way  than  he  could  teach.  He  only  made  you  a 
master  from  pride,  in  order  to  be  better  than  all 
others;  you  have  learned  of  me  to  be  a  master  for 
the  sake  of  the  work  itself,  and  in  order  to  learn 
you  have  been  willing  to  humble  yourself." 

Perfect  expression  becomes  beauty.  Truth,  per- 
fectly expressed,  becomes  beautiful  poetry,  rhetoric, 
oratory.  Goodness,  when  it  is  so  perfectly  expressed 
in  life  as  to  rise  above  all  effort  and  struggle,  becomes 
the  beauty  of  holiness.  Nature,  being  a  perfect 
expression  of  God's  will,  is  a  revelation  of  the  divine 
beauty.  The  imagination  is  the  faculty  by  means 
of  which  we  grasp  this  beauty,  and  hold  it  before 
our  mind  while  we  attempt  to  realize  it.  Every 
human  action  done  well  partakes  of  this  element  of 
beauty.  When  books  were  all  written  with  the  pen, 
before  the  invention  of  printing,  many  manuscripts 
were  so  beautifully  written  as  to  become  works  of 
art.  A  piece  of  good  handwriting  is  still  beautiful  ; 
good  reading  is  beautiful.  This  element  of  beauty 
descends  into  the  most  humble  acts  of  human  lii'e, 
and  gives  a  charm  to  every  human  work  when  it  is 
■  lone  accordiiiL;  to  an  ideal  standard. 


THE  IMAGINATION.  187 

If  we  limit  beauty  too  narrowly,  we  fall  into  the 
danger  of  becoming  fastidious.  This  is  a  disease 
which  affects  many  artists,  and  grows  into  an  irri- 
table and  nervous  dislike  of  everything  not  in  the 
best  taste.  It  is  a  bad  thing  to  cultivate  the  love  of 
beauty  when  it  makes  common  things,  people,  life, 
distasteful  to  us.  It  need  not  do  so,  as  appears  from 
the  example  of  such  great  poets  as  Burns,  Words- 
worth, AVhittier,  who  have  known  how  to  glorify 
common  life  and  every-day  people  with  the  charm 
of  romance.  These  great  masters  make  the  humblest 
flower  immortal  in  their  song ;  walk  in  glory  and  in 
joy,  following  their  plough  along  the  side  of  the 
mountain;  and  impart  some  random  truth  from  the 
common  things  which  lie  around  us. 

Xo  man  can  be  wholly  unhappy  who  is  accus- 
tomed to  look  for  beauty  in  nature  and  in  human 
life.  His  is  a  joy  which  never  wearies.  As  we 
grow  old  many  of  our  senses  grow  dull,  but  the 
sense  of  beauty  becomes  a  more  perfect  enchantment 
every  year.  Each  new  spring  seems  to  open  in 
more  exuberant,  miraculous  grace,  tenderness,  and 
charm  than  the  last.  Every  new  rosebud  seems 
the  most  perfect  one  we  ever  saw.  The  tender  lights 
and  rosy  coloring  of  the  auroral  dawn  ;  the  drifting 
feathery  cirri  clouds  in  the  depths  of  the  blue 
heavens  ;  the  grace  of  a  kitten  playing  on  the  carpet  ; 
the  wonder  in  the  eyes  of  an  infant;  the  innocent 
snow,  with  its  soft  curves,  drifting  over  fields  and 
weighing  down  the  laboring  trees  ;  the  splendor  of 


188  SELF-CULTURE. 

sunset,  when  the  king  of  day  holds  his  court,  sur- 
rounded by  his  magnificent  cloud-courtiers,  appar- 
elled in  all  gorgeous  colors ;  the  forest  and  wood, 
with  their  delicate  mosses  below,  and  their  lights 
and  shadows  above,  ■ — ■  how  the  goodness  of  God 
seems  to  descend  into  our  human  heart  through  all 
these  messages,  saying  how  he  loves  us,  and  what  a 
home  he  has  made  for  us  ! 

Let  us  thank  the  great  poets  of  modern  times  who 
have  taught  us  to  discover  a  divine  presence  in  the 
charm  and  wonder  of  the  visible  universe.  These 
are  our  schoolmasters  to  bring  us  to  God  in  nature. 
I  am  thankful  that  I  was  born  late  enough  to  be 
taught  these  lessons  by  AVordsworth  and  Coleridge, 
and  their  noble  contemporaries.  It  has  added  a 
great  charm  to  my  life,  and  I  think  a  depth  to  my 
religion. 

The  diseases  of  the  imagination  are  of  two  kinds : 
one  is  of  lethargy,  when  it  is  stupefied,  and  does  not 
act  ;  the  other  is  when  it  is  in  excess,  and  acts 
without  restraint  or  guidance. 

All  mere  drudgery  tends  to  stupefy  the  imagina- 
tion. And  all  work  is  drudgery  which  is  done 
mechanically,  with  the  hand  and  not  witli  the  mind; 
when  we  are  not  trying  to  do  our  work  as  well  as 
possible,  but  only  as  well  as  is  necessary.  Such  work 
stupefies  the  ideal  faculty,  quenches  the  sense  of 
beauty.  The  day-laborer  is  not  necessarily  a  drudge, 
for  he  may  try  to  do  his  work  as  well  as  he  can. 
AVhen  he  does  this  lie  becomes  an  artist. 


THE  IMAGINATION.  180 

But  when  a  man  tries  to  shirk  his  work,  when  he 
does  it  in  a  slovenly  way,  not  as  well  as  he  might, 
then  he  becomes  a  drudge,  even  though  lus  work  be 
that  of  a  poet  or  a  sculptor,  lie  ceases  to  exercise 
his  ideal  faculty,  and  stupefies  it.  Then  the  sense 
of  beauty  dies  out  of  his  mind.  When  men  conform 
to  custom,  though  they  know  it  is  wrong  custom, 
sacrifice  conscience  to  convenience,  principle  to  suc- 
cess, say  and  do,  not  what  they  believe  true  and 
right,  but  what  they  think  to  be  popular  and  profit- 
able; then,  though  they  may  be  senators  and  states- 
men, great  lawyers  or  great  preachers,  they  are  really 
drudges  ;  they  are  stupefying  their  ideal  nature. 

Tin;  other  disease  of  the  imagination  is  when  it  is 
unrestrained  and  unregulated.  Some  people  live  in 
a  world  of  dreams,  apart  from  life.  They  are  cradled 
in  illusions;  they  surround  themselves  with  a  world 
of  romance  ;  they  become  disgusted  with  actual  life  ; 
they  feed  their  minds  with  novels,  fairy-tales,  and 
works  of  fancy,  and  thus  become  unfitted  for  reality. 
They  abhor  everything  commonplace  ;  they  indulge 
in  reverie,  and  make  their  daily  food  of  what  should 
be,  at  best,  an  occasional  refreshment.  Xow,  this  is 
a  real  disease  of  the  imagination.  It  is  fever,  and 
tends  to  uselessness,  unrest,  and  insanity. 

The  cure  for  both  these  diseases  is  the  same.  It 
is  to  seek  beauty,  not  in  the  world  of  dreams,  but  in 
the  actual  world,  and  the  actual  life.  It  is  to  look 
for  beauty  everywhere.  —  in  common  things,  common 
people,  common  work,  common  life.     Looking  thus 


190  SELF-CUL  TUNE. 

we  shall  soon  see  that  beauty  is  no  monopoly  of 
artists,  poets,  dreamers  ;  that  all  life  may  become 
high  art;  that  all  we  do,  when  done  according  to  an 
ideal  standard,  instantly  partakes  of  this  element  of 
beauty.  Then,  too,  it  will  be  seen  that  all  nature  is 
saturated  and  overflowing  with  beauty ;  that  our 
Italy  and  Switzerland  are  here  in  Massachusetts ; 
that  one  look  at  the  morning  sky  or  the  evening 
sunset  may  reveal  inexhaustible  delights ;  that 

"  You  cannot  wave  your  staff  in  the  air, 
Or  dip  your  paddle  in  the  lake, 
But  it  carves  the  bow  of  beauty  there, 
And  the  ripples  in  rhyme  the  oar  forsake." 

Beauty  divorced  from  use  ceases  to  be  beautiful, 
as  piety  divorced  from  goodness  ceases  to  be  piety. 

The  greatest  works  of  art  were  all  made  for  some 
great  human  uses,  —  the  Parthenon  and  Strasburg 
minster  for  worship,  the  Transfiguration  and  the 
Dresden  Madonna  to  be  the  inspiration  of  the  people 
in  their  churches,  Shakspeare's  plays  to  be  daily 
bread  for  the  people.  Art,  like  the  Sabbath,  is  made 
for  man,  not  man  for  art. 

Let  men  be  taught,  then,  to  look  for  beauty  in  all 
they  see,  and  to  embody  beauty  in  all  they  do,  and 
the  imagination  will  then  be  both  active  and  healthy. 
life  will  be  neither  a  drudgery  nor  a  dream,  but  will 
become  full  of  God's  lift;  and  love. 

"I  slept,  ami  dreamed  that  Life  was  Beauty, 
I  woke,  and  fniuid  that   Life,  was  Duty. 


THE    IMAGI.XATIOX.  191 

Was  my  dream,  then,  a  shadowy  lie? 
Toil  on,  sad  heart,  courageously, — 
And  thou  shalt  find  thy  dream  shall  be 
A  noon-day  light  and  truth  to  thee." 

Yes,  for  all  duties,  when  thoroughly  and  perfectly 
done,  according  to  a  standard  in  the  soul,  become 
works  of  art.  Beauty  sought  by  itself  vanishes  in 
dreams  ;  beauty  sought  in  reality  becomes  the  charm 
of  our  life. 

The  more  that  we  see  of  beauty  everywhere, — 
in  nature,  in  life,  in  man  and  child,  in  work  and 
rest,  in  the  outward  and  the  inward  world,  —  the 
more  we  see  of  God.  His  divine  perfection  is  per- 
ceived, however  dimly,  in  all  that  he  has  made. 
"  Xow  we  see  it  darkly,  as  in  a  glass ;  but  then 
face  to  face."  That  which  we  have  learned  to  know 
and  love  here,  by  a  due  use  and  culture  of  the 
imagination,  we  shall  see  fully  then,  in  the  radiant 
glory  of  a  higher  world. 

This  is  the  culture  of  the  imagination  :  first,  to 
learn  to  see  the  beauty  and  grace  which  God  has 
poured  out  on  sky,  land,  and  sea ;  on  body  and  soul ; 
on  life  and  conduct :  on  society  and  art  ;  then,  to 
be  a  creator  of  beauty  as  God  creates  it,  carrying 
this  idea  of  the  perfect  into  all  that  we  do,  learning 
continually  to  think  more  exactly,  speak  more  accu- 
rately, live  more  truly,  and  finish  all  we  undertake 
well.  So  shall  we  be  brought  into  the  love  of  that 
divine  beauty  which  is  above  all,  through  all,  and  in 
us  all.     This  is  that  beautv  which  not  only  dwells 


1 D  2  SELF-  CUL  TURK. 

iii  the  summer  sun  and  the  round  ocean,  but  is  also 
a  beauty  known  to  neither  sea  nor  land,  but  bor- 
rowed from  the  prophetic  soul  itself,  "  dreaming  of 
things  to  come." 

I  can  wish  nothing  better  for  any  one  than  to 
respect  this  great  faculty  in  his  soul,  and  to  train 
it  to  see  and  to  create  always  that  which  is  best. 
Thus  a  blameless  pleasure  will  pervade  our  lives,  — 
life  will  grow  richer,  not  poorer,  as  we  grow  older. 
We  shall  see  more  and  more  of  the  divine  love  in 
all  things,  and  ever  come  nearer  to  God  and  to 
man. 


IX. 

EDUCATION  OF  THE  CONSCIENCE. 


IX. 

EDUCATION  OF  THE  CONSCIENCE. 


BY  the  conscience  I  mean  the  principle,  or  in- 
stinct, or  power  within  every  man,  which 
shows  to  him  the  distinction  hetween  right  and 
wrong;  makes  him  feel  that  lie  ought  to  do  some 
things,  ought  not  to  do  others  ;  and  gives  him  a 
sense  of  satisfaction  when  he  does  what  he  believes 
to  be  right,  of  dissatisfaction  when  he  does  what  he 
believes  to  bo  wrong.  Regarded  as  an  intellectual 
power,  it  is  the  sight  of  duty  as  an  idea ;  viewed  as 
a  motive,  it  is  that  which  prompts  to  moral  conduct; 
considered  as  sentiment,  it  is  the  feeling  of  merit  or 
demerit,  of  remorse  or  self-approbation. 

There  are  those,  we  know,  who  maintain  that 
there  is  no  such  faculty  in  man  as  this,  asserting 
that,  in  the  last  analysis,  these  convictions  may  be 
reduced  to  the  sense  of  what  is  profitable,  useful,  and 
pleasant.  The  reasons  for  this  opinion,  as  given  by 
Archdeacon  l'aley,  are  such  as  these. 

"Historians  and  travellers  tell  us  that  there  is 
scarcely  a  vice  which  has  not  in  some  a^e  or  coun- 


1 9  6  SEL  F-  CUL  TURE. 

try  been  approved  by  public  opinion,  scarcely  a 
virtue  which  lias  not  been  condemned ;  that  in  one 
country  it  is  thought  right  for  children  to  support 
their  aged  parents,  in  another  to  despatch  them  out 
of  the  way.  In  one  age  suicide  is  heroism,  in 
another  felony ;  theft  was  rewarded  in  Sparta  as 
meritorious ;  duelling  is  praised  or  condemned,  ac- 
cording to  the  sex,  age,  or  station  of  the  speaker." 
Hence  it  is  inferred  there  is  no  moral  sense  in 
man. 

This  objection  to  a  moral  sense  would  be  con- 
clusive if  we  maintain  that  conscience  teaches  us 
what  is  right  or  wrong.  But  this  we  do  not  say. 
We  say  it  gives  us  the  idea  of  right  and  wrong; 
causes  us  to  approve  what  we  believe  right,  disap- 
prove what  we  believe  to  be  wrong.  What  is  right 
and  wrong  has  to  be  learned,  as  we  learn  other 
truths,  by  the  exercise  of  the  reason  and  by  expe- 
rience. 

The  idea  of  right  is  not  the  same  as  that  of  the 
profitable  or  pleasant.  They  cannot  be  made  to 
seem  the  same.  The  idea  of  right  and  wrong  is 
primary,  —  it  is  not  to  be  explained  into  any  other 
notion.  It  resists  all  further  analysis.  When  you 
reach  that,  you  arrive  at  a  fundamental  idea,  a  pri- 
mary fact.  In  reality, you  maybe  said  to  be  looking 
at  God  himself  on  one  side  of  his  being,  it  would 
be  bad  if  we  could  explain  it  away,  for  then  we 
should  see  so  much  less  of  God. 

But  it  cannot  be  explained  away.     All  the'  world 


EDUCATION   OF   THE    COXSCIEXCE.  197 

over,  in  all  lands,  in  all  times,  wherever  man  is  to 
be  found,  is  found  this  conception  of  duty.  There 
is  no  race,  no  individual  so  low,  but  that  something 
seems  to  him  to  be  right,  something  wrong.  There  is 
no  language  among  the  thousand  varieties  of  human 
speech  which  has  not  the  words  "ought,"  "ought  not;" 
"  right,"  "  wrong  ;  "  "  duty,"  "  obligation."  And  not  a 
day  passes  but  men  use  these  words.  Some  things 
seem  to  all  men  to  be  just,  other  things  unjust.  Some 
people  are  said  to  deserve  reward,  others  to  merit 
punishment.  When  you  say,  "  That  man  is  a  vil- 
lain, he  ought  to  be  punished,"  you  do  not  mean 
the  same  thing  as  when  you  say,  "  That  man  has 
made  a  mistake  which  is  doing  us  harm."  You 
do  not  have  the  same  feeling  toward  one  who 
injures  you  accidentally  and  one  who  injures  you 
deliberately. 

Is  there  any  one  who  does  not  know  the  difference 
between  regret  and  remorse  \  I  am  sorry  for  mis- 
fortune, but  I  feel  guilty  for  sin.  It  may  be  a  small 
sin  which  1  have  committed.  It  may  be  a  slight 
deviation  from  the  truth,  a  slight  dereliction  from 
duty.  No  matter.  I  often  feel  as  deeply  this  small 
wrong-doing  as  if  it  were  ever  so  great  an  injury  to 
myself  or  others.  For  there  is  no  great,  no  small, 
in  right  and  wrong.  In  that  which  is  expedient  or 
inexpedient  the  question  of  more  or  less  may  lie  of 
importance.  In  going  to  the  railway  station  it  may, 
perhaps,  be  better  to  go  by  one  street  than  by  another. 
1  may  save  a  minute  or  two.      But  if   I    take  the 


198  SELF-  CUL  TURK. 

worst  road,  or  go  the  longest  way,  I  only  suffer  tem- 
poral evil.  In  regard  to  all  success  and  failure,  all 
prosperity  or  adversity,  the  proverb  applies,  "  It  will 
make  no  difference  a  hundred  years  hence."  But 
that  proverb  does  not  apply  to  doing  right  or  wrong. 
It  makes  a  difference,  or  seems  to  us  that  it  will 
make  a  difference,  a  thousand  years  hence,  a  million 
years  hence,  It  makes  a  difference  forever.  This 
is  the  only  way  in  which  we  can  believe  in  eternal 
punishment.  It  may  make  a  difference  to  all  eter- 
nity whether  we  do  right  or  wrong  to-day. 

In  buying  something  in  a  shop,  I  find  I  have  paid 
by  mistake  a  dollar  too  much.  That  is  no  great 
matter.  Or,  perhaps,  I  have  lost  a  dollar  from  my 
pocket-book.  That  does  not  trouble  me.  But  sup- 
pose I  receive  a  counterfeit  dollar  in  change.  I 
have  a  feeling  that  I  am  wronged.  It  is  not  the 
loss,  it  is  the  injustice,  which  troubles  me.  And 
now  suppose  that  having  taken  this  counterfeit,  I 
pass  it  over  on  some  one  else.  I  say,  "  I  took  it ; 
now  let  some  one  else  take  it."  Instead  of  destroy- 
ing it,  as  I  ought  to  do,  I  let  it  slip  out  of  my  hands 
into  those  of  some  other  person.  This  is  an  action 
which  may  trouble  me  a  million  years  hence,  may 
trouble  me  in  heaven. 

If  the  devil  should  appear  visibly  to  any  of  us, 
—  if  he  should  enter  undisguised,  with  visible  horns 
and  tail,  and  offer  you  millions  for  your  soul,  you 
would  refuse,  and  say,  "  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan." 
But  when  he   comes  in   the   form  of  business,  and 


EDUCATION  OF   THE    CONSCIENCE.         199 

says,  "Do  as  other  people  do.  It  may  not  be  quite 
right,  but  every  one  else  does  it.  Do  not  be  too 
puritanical.  Be  not  righteous  overmuch;  why  de- 
stroy yourself?"  then,  perhaps,  we  sell  our  soul  to 
him  for  a  very  paltry  sum;  and,  perhaps,  he  cheats 
us  out  of  that  small  sum,  after  all. 

How  the  one  deep  voice  of  the  human  conscience 
sounds  out  of  the  past,  striking  the  same  chord  of 
eternal  right !  Head  the  biographies  of  Plutarch. 
What  a  wholesome  tonic  there  is  in  the  words  of 
those  heroic  souls  speaking  in  the  service  of  immor- 
tal justice  and  right!  Homer  makes  a  hero  say, 
"  I  consulted  my  own  great  mind."  When  Dion 
had  his  enemy  in  his  power,  he  said,  "  I  have  con- 
quered Heraclides  in  war,  now  I  will  show  that  I 
am  superior  to  him  in  justice.  The  laws  allow 
revenge,  but  must  Dion  sully  his  glory  by  indulging 
it  ? "  So  he  pardoned  his  foe,  and  set  him  free. 
Cato  the  Younger  was  such  a  truthful  man  that  it 
became  a  proverb,  "  1  would  not  believe  it,  even  if 
Cato  said  it."  In  his  day,  as  in  ours,  there  were 
rings  and  lobbies,  and  Cato  proposed  a  law  requiring 
every  man  to  declare  on  oath  whether  he  had  been 
elected  to  Ins  office  by  such  means.  This  made  him 
so  unpopular  that  he  was  stoned  as  he  went  to  the 
to  rum,  and  his  companions  lied,  but  he  stood  so  firm 
and  calm  that  the  tumult  subsided,  and  he  was 
heard  in  silence.  "  .V  just  man  and  tenacious  of  his 
purpose,"  says  Horace,  "  fears  neither  the  tyrant  nor 
the  mob." 


200  SELF-CUL  Tl  'RE. 

The  people  of  Athens  had  such  respect  for  the 
integrity  of  Aristides  that  once,  when  Themistocles 
told  them  he  had  a  plan  which  would  be  of  great 
advantage  to  Athens,  but  must  not  be  told  publicly, 
they  said,  "  Tell  it  to  Aristides,  and  if  he  says  we 
ought  to  do  it,  we  will."  He  did  so,  and  it  proved 
to  be  a  plan  to  seize  the  <diips  of  the  other  (!  reeks, 
and  so  make  themselves  masters  of  the  sea.  Aris- 
tides then  told  the  people  that  "  nothing  could  be 
more  profitable,  but  nothing  more  unjust,  than  the 
measure  proposed  by  Themistocles."  So  the  Atheni- 
ans rejected  it,  without  hearing  what  it  was. 

The  whole  of  social  life  is  rooted  in  conscience. 
Honest  men  are  the  salt  of  the  earth.  If  God  had 
not  given  to  us  this  sense  of  justice,  society  would 
be  impossible.  If  all  men  thought  only  of  what  was 
profitable  and  pleasant,  no  man's  life  would  be  safe. 
What  is  it  holds  society  together  ?  Is  it  your  laws, 
your  courts,  your  police,  your  prisons,  your  gallows, 
your  militia  ?     No  ! 

It  is  only  for  the  outlaws,  the  dangerous  classes, 
those  who  have  thrown  off  the  restraints  of  con- 
science, that  we  build  prisons  and  establish  courts. 
The  law  is  for  the  lawless.  But  the  great  mass  of 
men  do  right  because  they  have  a  conscience.  "Con- 
science makes  cowards  of  us  all,"  says  Shakspeare  ; 
it  makes  men  afraid  to  do  the  evil  they  would  like 
to  do.  In  our  fancy,  in  our  imagination,  we  may 
conceive  of  ourselves  as  having  the  ring  of  Gyges, 
the  purse  of  Fortunatus.     But  if  we  had  these  mar- 


EDUCATION  OF   THE  CONSCIENCE.         201 

vellous  powers  we  should  not  use  them.  Our  con- 
science would  prevent  us.  Men  often  imagine 
themselves  better  than  they  are ;  but  they  also 
imagine  themselves  worse  than  they  are.  Dickens's 
character  who  was  in  the  habit  of  uttering  terrific 
threats  against  those  who  injured  him,  saying  that 
they  ought  to  be  flayed  alive,  and  that  he  should 
like  to  see  them  hung ;  and  who  yet  was,  in  reality, 
a  very  kind-hearted  man,  who  would  not  hurt  a  fly, 
—  this  character  is  a  very  natural  one.  Conscience 
is  a  power  within  us,  not  merely  a  conviction  or  a 
purpose.  The  sense  of  duty  becomes  at  last  incar- 
nate in  our  nature,  and  turns  into  character.  It 
often  holds  us  to  the  right  against  our  will,  when 
we  would  be  glad  to  go  wrong.  So  it  is  that  edu- 
cated, trained,  enlightened  conscience  is  the  corner- 
stone of  society. 

But  it  must  be  educated  and  trained ;  for  a 
diseased  conscience,  a  torpid  conscience,  a  falsely 
instructed  conscience,  an  ignorant  conscience,  an 
irritable  conscience,  a  weak  conscience,  a  conscience 
defiled  by  evil,  a  conscience  seared  or  impure,  may 
lie  worse  for  the  time  than  no  conscience  at  all. 
Conscience  is  a  power  which  can  be  misdirected, 
and  will  then  do  more  harm  than  good.  The  cruelty 
of  savages  is  not  etjual  to  the  cruelty  of  saints  who 
think  it  their  duty  to  torment  their  fellow-creatures. 
Let  a  father  only  think  it  his  duty  to  treat  his  chil- 
dren with  severity,  let  a  teacher  believe  that  he  ought 
to  be  stern  and   hard,  and   natural   sympathy   and 


202  SELF-CULTURE. 

love  are  frozen  at  their  roots.  Prom  a  sense  of  duty 
the  Phoenicians  burned  their  children  alive ;  from  a 
sense  of  duty  tens  of  thousands  of  martyrs  have  been 
tortured  at  the  stake  ;  from  a  sense  of  duty  husbands 
have  been  selfish,  wives  obstinate,  friends  unfriendly. 
Those  whose  hearts  yearned  to  love  each  other  have 
been  cold  as  ice,  because  they  thought  they  ought  to 
be  so.  From  a  sense  of  duty  men  have  inflicted  on 
themselves  tortures  without  end  ;  have  denied  them- 
selves common  joys ;  have  tormented  themselves 
with  imaginary  sins  ;  have  thought  it  right  to  be- 
lieve God  a  tyrant,  and  man  a  depraved  being,  to  be 
always  looking  at  hell,  not  at  heaven. 

Cotton  Mather,  who  wrote  a  book  on  "  doing 
good,"  so  earnest,  persuasive,  tender,  that  Dr.  Frank- 
lin attributed  to  it  whatever  useful  acts  he  himself 
had  done  in  the  world,  —  this  same  Cotton  Mather, 
misled  by  an  ignorant  conscience,  stood  by  rejoicing 
when  seventeen  persons  were  hung  at  Salem  for 
witchcraft.  So  hard  may  a  good  man's  heart  be- 
come when  his  conscience  is  darkened  by  super- 
stition. 

In  all  parts  of  life  conscience  is  the  most  impor- 
tant of  (dements.  The  civilization  is  cheap  and 
weak  which  has  not  the  backbone  of  conscience  in  it. 
You  cannot  have  a  coat  well  made,  a  horse  properly 
shod,  a  house  decently  built,  a  good  cup  of  tea  or 
coffee,  unless  there  is  conscience  in  those  who  serve 
you.  Money  will  not  buy  good  articles;  it  will  only 
buy  what  seems  good.     Your  clothes  come  to  pieces; 


EDUCATION  OE   THE   CUXSCJEXCE.         203 

they  were  not  conscientiously  made.  Your  house 
takes  fire  and  burns  down  ;  tor  the  carpenter  put  a 
beam  into  the  chimney,  because  you  could  not  know 
it.  Your  tea,  sugar,  Hour,  spices,  tobacco,  everything 
you  use,  is  adulterated.  You  think  you  are  buying 
coffee  ;  you  get  chicory,  beans,  burnt  sugar,  and  dried 
bread.  Flour  is  mixed  with  your  mustard,  leaves 
of  herbs  with  your  tobacco.  Everything  is  adulter- 
ated where  there  is  no  conscience. 

One  would  think  that  nothing  would  be  so  sought 
after  in  business  as  an  honest  man.  If  my  clerk 
cheats  me,  if  my  cashier  robs  the  till,  if  a  bank-teller 
falsifies  his  accounts  to  get  money  with  which  to 
speculate,  I  may  be  ruined  before  I  know  it.  Xever- 
theless,  no  one  goes  about  like  Diogenes,  looking- 
for  an  honest  man  ;  all  are  looking  for  smart  men. 
An  honest  man,  a  little  slow,  gets  a  salary  of  one 
thousand  dollars  a  year;  a  smart  man,  who  will  rob 
you  on  the  first  good  occasion,  you  buy  with  five 
thousand. 

All  men  have  conscience ;  almost  all  men  mean 
to  do  right ;  most  men  do  generally  act  up  to  their 
own  standard  of  right.  But  the  standard  of  right 
with  most  men  is  simply  the  public  opinion  around. 
What  others  think  is  right,  they  think  right.  The 
social  standard  of  duty  guides  the  conscience  of  nine 
persons  out  of  ten.  Therefore  it  is  of  the  utmost 
importance  to  educate  the  public  conscience  on  all 
subjects  of  practical  morality. 

All  means  should  be  used  to  keep  public  opinion 


2  04  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

right  in  its  standard  of  duty.  A  man  takes  trust 
funds  and  gambles  with  them,  or  a  bank  cashier 
takes  the  money  of  the  bank  and  speculates  with  it. 
People  are  first  angry  with  him,  then  sorry  for  him, 
then  agree  to  compromise,  then  let  him  off,  then 
help  him  to  do  the  same  thing  again.  This  is  all 
very  kind  and  benevolent.  But  what  is  the  result  ? 
You  are  educating  your  young  men,  your  clerks, 
your  agents,  to  believe  that  there  is  no  great  harm 
in  doing  the  same  thing.  Do  it  on  a  large  scale, 
thut  is  all.  You  are  systematically  corrupting  the 
conscience  of  the  community.  You  are  teaching 
them  that  in  this  kind  of  stealing  there  is  no  harm. 
To  steal  by  picking  a  man's  pocket  sends  one  to  the 
State's  prison ;  but  to  steal  by  robbing  shareholders, 
plundering  tax-payers  by  means  of  rings  and  lobbies, 
that  is  financial  ability ;  or,  at  the  worst,  if  one  is 
found  out,  a  financial  irregularity. 

If  these  things  are  done  in  the  green  tree,  what 
will  be  done  in  the  dry  ?  We  are  hardly  three 
generations  removed  from  the  Puritans,  men  whose 
lives  were  hard,  dry,  austere,  who  were  implacable 
towards  God's  enemies  as  they  understood  them, 
but  who  lived  and  had  their  being  in  conscience. 
They  would  have  cut  off  a  right  hand,  and  plucked 
out  a  right  eye,  rather  than  have  done  wrong.  If 
corruption  of  conscience  is  the  result  of  our  civiliza- 
tion, then  better  that  all  our  wealth  were  sunk  in 
the  Atlantic.  Better  that  every  railroad  were  torn 
up,  every  steamer  sunk,  every  manufactory  burned 


EDUCATION  OF   THE   CONSCIENCE.  205 

to  the  ground,  and  we  again  be  dressed  in  homespun, 
and  living  in  log-cabins.  We  should  then,  at  least, 
have  God,  truth,  nature,  love,  justice  for  our  friends 
and  companions,  if  we  did  not  have  fine  dresses  and 
champagne  suppers. 

The  public  conscience  is  being  fast  corrupted. 
"When  corporations  are  in  turn  plundered  and  become 
plunderers,  and  there  is  no  redress ;  when  lawyers 
in  the  front  rank  of  their  profession  sell  their  talents 
and  influence  to  protect  public  robbers ;  when  those 
who  steal  thousands  from  widows  and  orphans  are 
allowed  to  walk  the  streets  unharmed ;  when  smart- 
ness and  not  honesty  is  in  demand,  —  then  society  is 
in  danger  of  dissolution.  The  salt  has  lost  its  savor; 
what  is  it  good  for  ?  "What  is  the  use  of  the  church, 
the  school,  the  college,  the  press,  if  they  cannot 
instruct  the  community  in  common  honesty? 

This  is  what  the  salt  is  for.  "We  talk  about  the 
importance  of  reading  the  Bible  in  the  schools,  and 
think  it  will  be  a  dreadful  thing  to  let  the  Catholics 
exclude  it  from  them.  But  if,  instead  of  a  few 
minutes  given  to  reading  the  letter  of  the  Bible,  all 
our  school-teachers  should  daily  give  their  scholars 
practical  lessons  in  honesty  and  generosity;  if  they 
should  thrill  those  young  hearts  with  noble  stories 
of  virtue,  —  no  Catholic  would  object  to  that,  I 
think,  and  those  seeds  would  bear  fruit  for  the 
healing  and  safety  of  the  nation. 

And  if  the  pulpit,  instead  of  its  controversial 
theology  or  its  sentimental  devotion,  its  talk  about 


2UG  SELF-CULTURE. 

"  the  church "  or  its  abuse  of  heresy,  should  every 
week  set  up  a  standard  of  right ;  should  call  all  men 
to  "  do  justly  and  love  mercy  and  walk  humbly 
with  God ; "  if  it  should  make  goodness  attractive, 
and  show  that  wickedness  is  always  misery  and 
ruin,  —  then  the  whole  church  would  work  together 
to  build  up  a  righteous  community,  a  kingdom  of 
heaven. 

Beside  the  school,  the  college,  the  pulpit,  the 
public  mind  is  educated  by  the  press.  Whatever 
else  a  man  does  or  leaves  undone  every  day,  he 
always  reads  the  newspaper.  Xow,  there  are  three 
kinds  of  newspapers. 

First,  there  is  the  satanic  newspaper,  winch  delib- 
erately caters  to  the  lowest  tastes ;  which  constantly 
sneers  at  justice  and  humanity;  which  educates 
the  community  to  self-conceit.  Let  people  be  ac- 
customed every  day  to  have  it  assumed  that  all  con- 
scientiousness is  hypocrisy,  all  religion  a  sham,  all 
interest  in  other  men  a  weakness,  and  at  last  they 
take  that  tune,  and  lose  their  sense  of  the  nobleness 
of  virtue. 

Then  there  is  another  class  of  newspapers,  rare 
enough,  few  enough,  and  yet  we  have  some  such, 
who  staid  up  for  national  justice  and  honor.  They 
battle  through  long  years  against  atrocious  wrong, 
resting  on  no  less  a  deep  foundation  than  conscience. 
They  appeal  to  that,  and  not  in  vain.  They  may 
be  inconsistent,  and  often  wrong,  as  we  think;  they 
may  be  prejudiced  ;  but  they  do  an  immense  service. 


EDUCATION   OF    THE    CONSCIENCE.         2U7 

They  are  not  afraid  to  expose  iniquity  in  low  places 
anil  in  high.  They  throw  light  into  the  villany 
which  likes  darkness  and  concealment,  The  jour- 
nals which  do  this  are  great  moral  guides,  and  de- 
serve well  of  their  country. 

And  then  there  is  a  third  class,  of  which  it  may 
be  said  that  they  are  neither  cold  nor  hot,  but  luke- 
warm. They  are  never  heartily  in  favor  of  right, 
nor  openly  on  the  side  of  wrong.  If  any  effort  is 
made  to  improve  the  community,  they  approve  of 
the  object,  but  predict  its  failure.  They  overflow  in 
eulogy  of  the  good  men  who  are  dead  and  gone,  but 
never  have  the  courage  to  speak  one  strong  word  in 
behalf  of  the  good  men  who  are  fighting  against  evil 
to-day.  They  generally  think  such  persons  are 
injudicious,  unpractical,  and  in  bad  taste.  These 
journals  may  be  said  to  represent  the  cowardice  of 
the  community.  While  the  first  class  of  journals 
educate  the  public  mind  to  evil,  and  the  second  lift 
the  national  conscience  to  truth  and  right,  this  last 
sort  teach  the  community  indifference.  Better  that 
they  were  cold  or  hot  than  to  be  thus  lukewarm. 

What  is  needed  is  the  education  of  the  conscience. 
The  chief  diseases  of  the  conscience  are  stupor  and 
ignorance.  The  conscience  may  be  inactive,  or  it 
may  be  badly  instructed.  The  sins  of  the  time,  the 
crimes  against  society,  the  swindling  transactions, 
the  defalcations,  the  betrayals  of  trust,  the  repudia- 
tion of  public  obligations,  are  not  usually  deliberate 
violations  of  what    is  seen  to  lie   rmlit,  but  rather 


208  SELF-CULTURE. 

come  from  consciences  stupefied,  sophisticated,  and 
uninstructed.1 

The  education  of  the  conscience  is  of  three  kinds. 
It  needs  to  be  awakened,  to  be  enlightened,  and  to 
be  trained.  It  is  awakened  by  being  taught  the 
obligations  we  owe  to  God  and  man  ;  that  man  is 
under  law ;  that  no  one  has  any  right  to  do  as  he 
pleases,  but  that  all  are  responsible  to  God  and  to 
the  truth  for  every  action  of  their  lives.  It  is  roused 
by  the  doctrine  of  the  judgment  to  come,  by  being 


1  Take,  for  example,  the  proposition  made  a  few  years  since  to 
pay  the  national  debt  in  silver,  when  silver  was  below  par,  —  a 
plan  at  one  time  very  popular,  and  which  would  have  inflicted  so 
much  injury  on  the  honor  and  welfare  of  the  nation,  and  which 
would  have  been  a  blow  to  national  credit,  and  the  source  of 
disaster.  We  mistake  if  we  suppose  that  the  people  of  the  West 
and  South  were  deliberately  doing  what  they  knew  to  lie  wrong  in 
supporting  it.  They  were  misled  by  artful  demagogues.  They 
were  taught  to  believe  that,  as  the  letter  of  the  law  allowed  pay- 
ment of  the  early  bonds  in  coin  of  either  kind,  there  would  he  no 
injustice  in  paying  them  in  a  depreciated  currency.  They  were 
persuaded  that  the  demonetization  of  silver  was  a  cunning  trick  of 
rich  bondholders,  done  in  order  to  oppress  the  poor,  and  that  the 
people  had  been  defrauded  thus  of  the  money  which  would  give 
new  activity  to  business  and  furnish  employment  to  thousands. 
But  when  they  were  taught  that  this  was  all  false,  and  that  the 
plan  was  in  the  interest  of  speculators;  when  they  saw  that  it 
would  be  defrauding  every  man  who  had  any  money  due  him  of 
ten  cents  on  a  dollar;  that  it  would  lie  cheating  the  foreign  cred- 
itors who  lent  us  their  money  in  our  war  when  we  needed  it  to 
save  the  nation  :  that  it  would  he  cheating  the  widows  and  orphans 
whose  small  means  were  intrusted  to  the  honor  of  the  country  , 
that  it  would  be  cheating  every  fanner  out  of  a  tenth  part  of  the 


EDUCATION  OF    THE   CONSCIENCE.         2U9 

taught  that  all  our  lives  are  to  be  ultimately  known 
and  seen  in  the  light  of  eternal  truth,  and  that  every 
man  is  to  give  an  account  of  himself  to  Clod.  It  is 
the  duty  of  the  Church  to  arouse  the  conscience  by 
these  solemn  truths,  and  to  show  to  all  men  that  for 
every  idle  word  they  are  to  give  an  account  in  the 
day  of  the  revelation  of  God's  truth ;  that  there  is 
nothing  covered  that  shall  not  be  revealed,  nor  any- 
thing hid  which  shall  not  be  known. 

Then  the  conscience,  having  been  awakened,  needs 


price  of  his  wheat,  every  day-laborer  of  the  tenth  part  of  his  day's 
wages  ;  and  all  to  put  more  money  into  the  pockets  of  the  rich 
owners  of  the  silver  mines,  —  then  the  conscience  of  the  land  re- 
fused to  accept  such  a  proposition.  These  truths  were  taught 
boldly,  plainly,  unequivocally,  in  tones  which  reached  every  log- 
cabin  beyond  the  mountains.  The  people  were  taught  that  the 
collapse  of  business  was  the  natural  result  of  over-trading,  over- 
investments in  costly  speculations,  and  pushing  the  credit  system 
to  an  extreme  point.  They  were  taught  that  what  we  needed 
for  the  revival  of  business  was  not  more  money,  but  more  confi- 
dence ;  that  there  was  money  enough,  but  that  those  who  had  it 
would  not  risk  it.  They  were  made  to  see  that  confidence  comes 
not  by  repudiation  of  debts,  not  by  expansion  and  depreciation  of 
the  currency,  not  by  trying  to  cheat  creditors,  but  by  exactly  the 
opposite  course,  and  that  all  these  measures  would  only  increase  the 
evils  under  which  we  suffered.  They  saw  at  last  that  the  remedy 
lor  the  state  of  commercial  distrust  was  that  each  man  should 
learn  economy,  give  up  extravagance,  quit  speculation,  do  a  safe 
business,  pay  his  debts  promptly,  and  that  the  government  should 
lead  the  way  by  resuming  specie  payments  ;  that  is,  by  beginning 
1')  pay  its  honest  debts  in  honest  money.  As  soon  as  the  con- 
science of  the  nation  was  enlightened  on  such  points  as  these, 
such  a  piece  of  dishonesty  as  the  Bland  bill  became  impossible. 
14 


L;1U  SELF-CULTURE. 

to  be  enlightened ;  it  needs  to  be  taught  the  differ- 
ence between  right  and  wrong  in  all  things.  For 
this  purpose  we  must  have  some  standard,  rule,  code 
of  ethics. 

Many  of  the  worst  actions  done  in  the  world  have 
been  done  by  honest  people,  who  conscientiously 
believed  that  they  were  doing  right.  Most  perse- 
cutors, from  the  time  of  Paul  down  through  the  In- 
quisitors, who  burned  thousands  in  Spain  for  some 
supposed  heresy,  to  the  Alvas  and  Philips,  Louis 
XIV.,  Bloody  Mary  and  her  more  bloody  father, — 
these  have  believed  themselves  doing  God  service. 
The  instruction  of  the  conscience  is  therefore  of  the 
utmost  importance.  But  where  is  the  code  ?  what  is 
the  standard  ? 

Most  Christians  will  tell  us  that  the  Gospel  of 
Jesus  gives  us  a  code  of  ethics  which  is  sufficient 
for  all  purposes.  But  there  is  no  such  systematic 
code  in  the  Xew  Testament.  "We  are  there  taught 
principles  of  right  rather  than  rules.  These  great 
principles  are  no  doubt  sufficient  to  raise  the  world 
to  a  far  higher  condition  of  morals  than  it  lias  yet 
attained.  Such  is  the  golden  rule  of  doing  to  others 
as  we  would  wish  them  to  do  to  us ;  or,  putting 
ourselves  in  their  place.  Such  are  the  Luge  direc- 
tions like  these  :  "  Overcome  evil  with  good;"  "Speak 
the  truth  in  love;"  "  Love  God  with  all  your  heart, 
and  love  your  neighbor  as  yourself;"  "  Let  your  yea 
be  yea,  and  your  nay  nay;"  "Love  your  enemies, 
bless  those  that  persecute  you ;"  "  Forgive,  that  ye 


EDUCATION   OF    THE    COA'SC/EXCE.         211 

may  be  forgiven  ;"  "  lie  that  humbleth  himself  shall 
he  exalted;"  "It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to 
receive." 

The  Apostle  Paul  gives  it  as  his  opinion  that  all 
duties  to  others  are  comprehended  in  the  saying, 
"  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself;"  because' 
a  man  who  loves  his  neighbor  as  himself  will  not 
cheat  him,  or  injure  him  in  any  other  way.  Still, 
considered  in  the  light  of  an  exhaustive  criticism, 
this  is  not  enough.  For  a  conscientious  inquisitor 
would  honestly  say,  "  li'  1  were  a  heretic  as  he  is,  I 
should  think  that  I  ought  to  be  burned  alive."  We 
need,  then,  a  rule  to  show  him  that  neither  he  nor 
his  neighbor  should  be  punished  for  his  opinion. 
This  other  rule  is  no  doubt  to  be  found  in  such 
sayings  as  "Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged;" 
"  Who  art  thou  that  judgest  another  man's  servant  ?" 
J  hit,  after  all,  Christianity  is  a  spirit  rather  than  a 
code.  It  is  an  inspiration  from  which  codes  and 
rules  may  come,  but  it  does  not  give  them. 

These  rules  come,  as  we  have  said,  from  experience. 
Xo  doubt  there  are  some  great  ideas  of  right  common 
to  the  whole  human  race,  to  which  the  soul  of  man 
in  all  lands  and  times  gives  its  assent.  These  ideas 
may  be  reduced  to  two,  —  truth  and  love. 

These  two,  truth  and  love,  are  the  antagonist  but 
not  contradictory  principles  from  which  all  ethics 
must  be  developed.  They  are  the  two  poles  of  the 
moral  universe,  which  are  harmonized  in  Clod  into 
a  sublime  unity,  and  which  approach  a  similar  unity 


'2  1  2  SELF-  CUL  TURE. 

iii  all  good  men.  They  are  equally  venerable,  equally 
beautiful.  All  goodness  partakes  of  both  elements; 
and  in  all  true  excellence  mercy  and  truth  meet 
together,  righteousness  and  peace  kiss  each  other. 

The  doctrine  which  makes  utility  the  criterion  of 
ethics  is  inadequate,  because  it  is  always  in  danger 
of  sacrificing  principle  to  expediency;  that  is,  of 
postponing  truth  to  love.  If  we  make  "the  greatest 
good  of  the  greatest  number "  an  absolute  rule  of 
ethics,  we  risk  sacrificing  those  noble  instincts  which 
have  made  heroes,  saints,  and  martyrs  in  all  time. 
When  we  are  obliged  to  ask  always  and  only,  "What 
good  will  this  action  do  to  mankind?"  we  may 
easily  fail  of  seeing  the  good  of  the  very  best  actions. 
The  heart,  in  such  cases,  is  often  wiser  than  the 
head.  So  it  was  in  the  case  of  that  noble  man, 
John  Stuart  Mill,  when  he  uttered  the  sentiment, 
the  most  admired,  perhaps,  in  all  his  writings. 
Denying  with  great  energy  the  doctrine  that  the 
standard  of  right  and  wrong  can  be  different  in 
man  and  God,  he  added  that  "if  he  must  go  to  hell 
for  such  a  denial,  to  hell  he  would  go."  Now  Mr. 
Mill  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  doctrine  that  the  true 
standard  in  morals  is  the  greatest  good  of  the  great- 
est number.  Miss  Frances  Power  Cobbe  thereupon 
acutely  remarked,  that  if  it  was  right  for  Mr.  Mill 
to  go  to  hell  for  this  conviction,  it  must  be  right 
for  all  others  to  do  so  too,  and  that  thus  all  man- 
kind ought  to  be  willing  to  goto  hell  "for  the  great- 
est good  of  the  greatest  number." 


EDUCATION  OF    THE   CONSCIENCE.         213 

Every  case  of  conscience  which  arises  must  be 
decided  by  itself,  according  to  this  law  of  supreme 
and  equal  reverence  for  truth  on  the  one  side  and 
for  love  on  the  other.  Truth  must  not  be  sacriticed 
to  love,  nor  love  to  truth.  It  is  only  because  of  our 
ignorance  or  our  weakness  that  this  ever  seems 
necessary.  In  the  highest  state  of  the  soul  it  is 
not  necessary. 

All  real  difficulties  as  to  what  is  right  will  turn 
out,  in  the  last  analysis,  to  come  from  the  supposed 
conflict  of  these  two  principles.  Is  it  right  for  a 
physician  to  lie  to  his  patient  about  his  disease, 
when  telling  the  truth  might  injure  him  ?  May  I 
lie  to  another  for  his  good,  or  to  a  highway  robber 
to  save  his  victim,  or  to  a  murderer  to  prevent  a 
crime  \  On  the  other  hand,  must  I  sacrifice  love  to 
truth  by  telling  the  truth  which  will  injure  my 
friend;  by  standing  by  my  principles  and  con- 
victions when  they  will  injure  those  I  love  ?  Must 
I  be  scrupulously  honest  when  no  one  requires  it 
of  me,  and  when  a  great  apparent  injury  will  result 
from  it?.  He  who  sacrifices  all  expediency  to  a 
theory  or  a  belief  is  in  danger  of  becoming  a  fanatic. 
He  who  gives  up  his  principles  whenever  some  risk 
or  some  evil  seems  likely  to  follow  their  application 
will  soon  do  evil  that  good  may  come. 

Xo  absolute  rule  can  be  laid  down  for  all  such 
cases.  There  are  dangers  on  either  hand.  We  need 
principles  of  right-doing  to  guide  us,  to  which  we 
must  cling  for  safety,  even  at  the  risk  of  seeming 


2 1 4  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

scrupulous  and  puritanical.  Conscience  in  little 
things  is  our  only  safeguard  against  temptation.  If 
we  adopt  the  theory  of  ethics  which  makes  right 
another  name  for  utility,  and  makes  utility  the 
criterion  of  right,  we  are  liable  to  imagine  the  thing 
Ave  wish  to  be  useful.  How  many  men  in  places  of 
trust  —  trustees,  cashiers  of  banks,  treasurers  of 
corporations,  town  treasurers  —  have  been  tempted 
in  this  way,  and  brought  disgrace  on  themselves  and 
their  families  ?  They  said,  "  We  can  use  these  funds 
to  advantage  for  ourselves,  and  no  harm  to  others. 
We  are  sure  to  succeed  in  this  speculation.  We  shall 
gain,  and  no  one  lose."  The  only  safeguard  for  men 
in  such  positions  is  an  inflexible  principle.  "  Do 
right,  though  the  heavens  fall."  "  Touch  not,  taste 
not,  handle  not."  "  Resist  the  beginnings."  Such 
is  the  language  of  wisdom  in  all  time.  This  is  the 
panoply —  the  armor  cap-a-pie  —  which  alone  makes 
one  safe. 

Truth  embodies  itself  in  these  stern  and  sure 
laws,  these  inflexible  rules  of  justice,  honor,  fidelity 
to  trusts,  loyalty  to  engagements,  adherence  to  prom- 
ises, abhorrence  of  the  slightest  dishonesty.  To  such 
a  spirit  the  rights  of  all  are  sacred,  of  friends  and 
enemies  alike. 

Join  with  that  the  spirit  of  love,  which  seeks  the 
good  of  all,  which  desires  to  help  all,  —  not  for 
their  gratitude,  not  for  reputation  or  for  praise,  but 
because  it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive. 
Thus  truth  is  for  the  sake  of  love,  and   love  for  the 


EDUCATION   OF   THE    CONSCIENCE.         215 

sake  of  truth.  We  do  good  to  others  for  our  own 
sake,  in  order  to  he;  true  to  ourselves.  We  are  faith- 
fid  to  truth  and  right,  because  we  know  that  this 
only  will  help  and  save  the  human  race. 

The  spirit  of  righteousness  is  more  than  the  letter  ; 
and  if  we  live  in  that  spirit,  we  shall  also  walk 
in  it. 

After  the  awakening  and  instruction  of  the  con- 
science, comes  its  training  or  discipline.  And  this 
is  each  man's  own  work.  This  he  must  teach  him- 
self by  practice.  Even  the  Apostle  says,  "Herein 
do  I  exercise  myself,  to  keep  a  conscience  always 
void  of  offence  toward  God  and  man."  This  exer- 
cise requires  self-study,  self-knowledge.  We  have 
all  of  us  our  besetting  sins,  our  special  moral  danger, 
and  our  special  moral  strength.  We  should  find 
out  what  our  peculiar  need  is,  and  arrange  our  life 
and  our  circumstances  accordingly.  A.  bad  habit, 
which  cannot  be  conquered  directly,  may  be  over- 
come by  arranging  circumstances  to  help  us.  If  a 
man  is  indolent,  he  should  put  himself  where  he 
will  lie  obliged  to  work.  If  he  is  irritable,  he  should 
avoid  the  occasions  which  will  excite  his  temper. 
If  he  is  tempted  to  insincerity  and  falsehood,  he 
should  surround  himself  with  all  possible  influences 
and  helps  to  keep  him  to  the  strictest  verity.  And 
in  all  this  he  needs  the  help  of  religion,  of  daily 
prayer,  and  of  living  always  in  the  great  Taskmaster's 
eye. 

Beside  the    public   conscience,  of  which  we  all 


216  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

partake,  every  man  needs,  for  his  own  self-respect, 
to  have  a  conscience  of  his  own.  He  needs  to  have 
some  principles  of  right  by  which  to  live,  and  then 
to  live  accordingly.  "Have  salt  in  yourselves," 
says  Jesus.  Your  conscience  can  no  more  he  kept 
healthy  without  exercise  than  your  body;  and  the 
best  exercise  for  the  conscience  is  in  holding  last  its 
integrity  in  small  things.  Here  lies  the  chief  temp- 
tation to  wrong.  To  tell  a  small  untruth,  to  utter  a 
little  word  of  unkindness,  to  cheat  in  some  very 
unimportant  matter,  —  these  are  the  real  temptations 
of  life  which  beset  us. 

Let  a  man  be  thoroughly  conscientious,  and  he 
becomes  the  salt  of  society,  the  light  of  the  world. 
He  is  the  little  candle  which  throws  its  steady 
beams  very  far  into  the  night.  Society  leans  on 
such  men.  The  Church  leans  on  them.  The  State 
leans  on  them.  All  depends  on  character.  One  man 
who  has  a  character  of  his  own,  poised  on  principle, 
is  stronger  than  all  other  men  who  copy  each  other. 
"  When  the  righteous  die,"  says  the  Talmud,  "  it  is 
the  earth  which  loses.  The  lost  jewel  will  be  always 
a  jewel,  wherever  it  goes;  but  those  who  have  lost 
it,  they  may  wee})."  "He  who  has  more  knowledge 
than  good  works  is  like  a  tree  with  many  branches 
and  few  roots,  which  the  first  wind  throws  on  its 
face;  while  he  who  does  more  than  he  says  is  like 
a  tree  with  strong  roots  and  few  branches,  which  all 
\he  winds  cannot  uproot."  Confucius  says,  "To  live 
according  to  justice    is    like    the    pole-star,    which 


EDUCATION  OF    THE    COXSCIEXCE.         21  < 

stands  firm  while  the  whole  heaven  moves  around 
it," 

"What  is  a  man  profited,  if  he  gain  the  whole 
world  and  lose  his  own  soul?"  says  Jesus.  The 
Buddhist  also  says  that  "  all  the  jewels  and  gold 
one  can  collect  he  drops  from  his  hand  when  he 
dies,  but  every  good  action  he  has  done  is  rooted 
into  his  soul,  and  can  never  leave  him." 

"  Happy  is  he  who  walks  attended,"  says  Milton, 
"  by  that  strong-siding  champion,  Conscience." 


EDUCATION   OF  THE   AFFECTIONS 
AND   SOCIAL   POWERS. 


X. 


EDUCATION    OF    THE    AFFECTIONS 
AND  SOCIAL  POWERS. 


THE  community  of  the  early  Christians,  as 
described  in  the  Book  of  Acts,  was,  I  suppose, 
the  best  society  the  world  has  ever  seen,  the  highest 
social  condition  yet  attained  by  human  beings.  That 
was  the  divine  compensation  which  they  had  for 
their  poverty,  persecution,  danger. 

There  was  among  them  a  thorough  union  of  heart 
and  soul,  entire  sympathy  among  themselves,  ab- 
sence of  sellish  aims,  each  happy  to  give  and  willing 
to  receive  ;  having  one  faith,  one  hope,  one  love. 
Their  hearts  were  penetrated  to  the  centre  with  the 
divine  truth  of  the  new  gospel,  and  it  developed 
their  whole  life,  making  some  apostles,  some  prophets, 
some  teachers  ;  bringing  out  all  the  gifts  and  graces 
that  were  in  them.  They  lived  together,  they  be- 
longed together.  They  were  all  brothers  and  sisters, 
fathers  and  children.  They  were  so  perfectly  at 
one,  that  Faul  could  find  no  better  similitude  for 
this  union  than  that  of  the  different  limbs  and 
organs  of  the  human  bodv  working  together  toward 


222  SELF-CULTURE. 

one  end  ;  all  "  fitly  joined  together,  and  compacted 
by  that  which  every  joint  supplieth."  A  man  then 
no  more  thought  of  saying,  "This  is  my  place," 
"  This  is  my  right,"  than  the  hand  thinks  of  saying 
to  the  foot,  "  This  blood  belongs  to  me,  not  to  you," 
or  of  saying  to  the  other  hand,  "  I  have  a  right  to 
do  this,  you  have  not." 

This,  T  think,  was,  on  the  whole,  the  highest  con- 
dition of  human  society  ever  yet  attained.  It  had 
all  the  elements  of  the  best  society  in  it,  (1.;  A 
common  cause,  in  which  all  were  interested,  harmo- 
nizing their  varieties,  subduing  their  differences, 
directing  their  faculties  to  one  end.  (2.)  An  enthu- 
siasm of  love,  which  conquered  for  a  time  the  selfish 
elements,  and  made  them  of  one  heart  and  soul. 
(3.)  A  new  and  profound  experience  of  truth,  devel- 
oping the  best  faculties  of  their  nature.  Thus  they 
had  a  common  truth,  common  work,  and  a  common 
love  ;  and  if  that  does  not  make  the  best  society, 
what  does  ? 

It  did  not  last;  it  could  not.  If  it  had  lasted, 
heaven  would  have  already  come  on  the  earth.  For 
a  few  days  this  divine  life  of  love  lasted.  "The  sun 
stood  still  over  Gibeon,  and  the  moon  in  the  valley 
of  Ajalon,"  and  then  the  old  difficulties  came  back. 
Hypocrisy  came  into  the  church  with  Ananias  and 
Sapphira  ;  sectarianism,  with  those  who  said,  :<  I 
am  of  Paul,"  and  "I  am  of  Apollos."  Old  Adam 
was  too  strong  for  young  Melancthon.  Putt  this 
gleam   of  glorv  remained,  this  enchanting  vision  of 


/'//A'   AFFECTIONS  AXD   SOCIAL    POWERS.     223 

a  pure,  unselfish  brotherhood,  to  prove  the  possibil- 
ity of  such  a  condition  ;  a  prophecy,  that  some  day 
it  would  be  reached  again,  not  by  a  few,  but  by  all. 

Man  was  made  for  society.  But,  then,  to  be  capa- 
ble of  society,  he  must  first  be  an  individual.  The 
conditions  of  a  musical  chord  are  these:  that  there 
shall  be  two  notes,  which  are,  first,  different  from  each 
other ;  and,  secondly,  in  harmony  with  each  other. 
So,  for  a  perfect  society,  you  must  have  first  perfectly 
distinct  individuals.  Individual  life  and  character 
must  be  developed  before  they  can  be  harmonized. 

Man  was  made  for  society  ;  and  an  unsocial  state 
is  an  unnatural  state.  Long  ago,  Dr.  James  Walker 
uttered  a  sentence  which  I  have  never  forgotten, 
'•  There  never  was  a  greater  misnomer  than  to  call  a 
savage  a  child  of  Nature."  Nature  did  not  make 
men  to  lie  noble  savages,  running  wild  in  the  woods, 
but  to  co-operate  in  society.  It  will  do  very  well 
to  spend  a  month  or  two  in  the  Adirondacks  or  in 
the  parks  of  Colorado  in  the  summer,  away  from  all 
social  life  ;  but  it  is  good  because  these  i'ew  weeks 
of  loneliness  prepare  the  sauce  of  hunger  for  the 
social  least  which  is  to  follow. 

The  social  instinct,  in  its  lowest  form,  which  is 
merely  the  wish  to  lie  with  other  people,  is  shared 
also  by  animals.  Most  animals  are  gregarious  ;  they 
run  in  herds,  fly  in  Hocks,  swim  in  shoals.  A  dog 
is  happy  if  you  let  him  come  into  the  house,  and 
sleep  on  the  carpet  where  the  family  are  assembled: 
all  he  asks  is  to  lie  with  you. 


224  SELF-CULTURE. 

When  we  speak  of  the  affections  or  social  quali- 
ties, we  include  a  great  range  of  human  feeling,  ex- 
tending upward  from  a  blind  canine  attachment  to 
the  loftiest  piety  and  most  unbounded  charity.  The 
following  varieties  of  the  social  element. of  human 
affection  may  be  specified  :  — 

1.  Blind  attachment,  or  mere  adhesiveness,  —  the 
disposition  to  cling  to  some  person  as  a  support,  like 
the  vine  to  the  oak,  irrespective  of  any  quality  but 
strength.  This  is  born  of  weakness  and  the  need  of 
dependence. 

2.  Love  of  Society.  — We  are  all  made  social  beings, 
needing  the  stimulus  of  companions  and  associates. 
This  is  the  principle  out  of  which  civilization  comes. 
The  life  of  neighborhoods,  towns,  and  cities  depends 
on  the  fact  that  it  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone. 

3.  Sympathy.  —  This  makes  us  feel  with  those 
about  us  ;  causes  us  to  enter  into  their  state  of  mind, 
and  to  rejoice  with  those  who  rejoice,  or  weep  with 
those  who  weep.  It  is  a  quality  which  binds  us  to 
those  near  to  us,  producing  kindliness,  good-nature, 
pleasant  manners,  and  good-will.  But  it  does  not 
do  much  for  those  at  a  distance,  and  may  lead  us  to 
neglect  them,  by  being  so  much  absorbed  with  those 
close  at  hand. 

4.  Friendship. —  Here  comes  in  the  principle  of 
selection  and  choice.  Friendship  begins  very  early, 
but  in  its  lower  stage  shares  the  defects  which 
belong  to  sympathy.  Little  children  and  young 
people  have  their  friends,  to  whom  they  are  ardently 


THE   AFFECTIONS  AND   SOCIAL    POWERS.    226 

attached  for  the  time,  whom  they  must  see  every 
day,  or  be  unhappy.  But  a  short  separation  is  often 
death  to  these  juvenile  attachments,  -which  have  no 
root  in  their  objects,  but  are  born  from  the  instinct- 
ive need  of  loving  some  one.  In  its  higher  forms, 
friendship  is  one  of  the  noblest  attainments  of  men, 
as  we  see  in  such  instances  as  that  of  Shakspeare 
and  his  unknown  friend  ;  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  and 
his  chancellor  Oxenstern ;  ofTennyson  and  Hallam; 
of  Charles  Lamb  and  his  companions ;  of  Goethe 
and  Schiller;  Cowper  and  Mrs.  Unwin ;  and  the 
immortal  group  which  clustered  around  Dr.  John- 
son. 

5.  Home  Affections. — These  are  the  first  and  the 
last  of  human  attachments  ;  they  begin  with  the  first 
opening  of  the  soul,  and  they  abide  when  all  other 
feelings  have  faded  away.  Families  are  the  unity 
of  which  society  is  composed,  as  tissue  is  made  of 
cells,  and  matter  of  molecules.  The  attractions  of 
parent  and  child,  man  and  wife,  brother  and  sister, 
are  fundamental  and  primary.  They  are  the  deep 
roots  from  which  social  life  is  developed.  According 
as  the  family  is,  so  is  the  State. 

6.  Benevolence.  —  This  differs  from  sympathy  by 
being  not  a  mere  feeling,  but  a  principle  of  action, 
and  which  applies  equally  to  those  near  and  distant, 
to  those  whom  we  like  or  those  whom  we  dislike. 
It  is,  therefore,  higher  and  larger  than  mere  good- 
nature, and  fills  many  gaps  otherwise  left  empty. 
We  may  connect  with  it  pity,  which  is  aroused  by 

15 


2  2  6  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

the  sorrows  of  others,  even  of  those  whom  we  do 
not  know,  but  only  hear  of, 

7.  Generosity  or  Sentiment.  —  Here  comes  a  class 
of  sentiments  in  which  thought  and  feeling  unite, 
such  as  patriotism,  or  the  love  of  country  ;  loyalty 
to  one's  chief,  one's  order,  one's  associates  ;  the  sense 
of  honor;  the  love  of  truth ;  heroic  devotion  to  a 
cause  or  a  principle.  These  sentiments  may  easily 
run  into  sentimentalism,  but  they  are  to  be  distin- 
guished from  it.  They  enter  into  all  elevated  social 
culture,  and  constitute  a  large  part  of  the  beauty 
and  charm  of  human  character. 

8.  Finally,  as  the  perfect  development  and  out- 
come of  all  affection,  we  rise  into  universal  love  or 
charity,  which  includes  love  to  God  and  love  to 
man,  and  is  opposed  to  all  selfishness.  This  is  the 
pure  atmosphere  in  which  alone  the  human  soul 
breathes  its  highest  life.  This  vitalizes  and  purifies 
all  other  love,  and  takes  away  evil  passion,  low 
desire,  and  self-will  from  the  heart. 

The  affections  are  in  all  languages  compared  with 
heat.  Everywhere  men  speak  of  warm  feelings,  hot 
desires,  the  fires  of  love  and  hate,  burning  passions. 
These  metaphors  suggest  the  fact,  that  as  heat  is  the 
great  motor  in  the  physical  world,  so  desire  and  love 
are  the  great  motors  in  the  human  world.  As  under 
the  influence  of  summer  heat  plants  unfold,  so  the 
soul  of  man  develops  in  society.  A  solitary  man 
cannot  grow.  The  story  of  Kobinson  Crusoe  is  an 
ingenious  fable,  which  could  scarcely  be  realized  ; 


THE   AFFECTIONS  AND   SOCIAL    POWERS.     22  < 

for  a  man  wholly  alone  would  lose  his  ambition,  and 
gradually  only  do  what  was  necessary  for  mere 
existence.  Out  of  the  reach  of  humanity,  never 
hearing  the  sweet  music  of  human  words,  he  would 
spend  his  time  in  longing  for  the  divine  gifts  of 
society  and  earthly  love,  and  look  with  horror  on 
the  most  beautiful  objects  in  nature  around  him. 
Indifference,  inaction,  stupor,  come  with  solitude. 
AVe  were  obliged  to  give  up  the  system  of  solitary 
confinement  in  our  prisons  because  it  speedily  led 
to  insanity  and  death.  In  the  same  way,  the  soli- 
tude of  the  early  Christian  hermits,  who  lived  alone 
in  caves  and  under  trees,  led  to  a  kind  of  frenzy, 
and  they  were  therefore  collected  into  communities 
as  early  as  the  fourth  century.  Man  cannot  live  on 
bread  only,  or  on  thought  only,  or  on  prayer  only; 
he  also  needs  human  society. 

Therefore  as  man  is  thus  evidently  a  social  animal, 
human  life  has  been  so  arranged  as  to  develop  the 
social  nature.  Infancy  and  childhood  are  made 
dependent  on  parents;  and  lii'e  is  a  perpetual  inter- 
course of  man  with  man.  The  family  is  the  smallest 
social  circle;  families  arranged  together  make  neigh- 
borhoods; neighborhoods  combined  make  town- 
ships and  communities;  communities  united  mako 
nations. 

The  mere  presence  of  human  beings  gives  a  cer- 
tain satisfaction.  1  love  to  go,  sometimes,  to  New 
York,  simply  to  walk  in  Broadway,  to  feel  myself 
in  the  mi'ditv   current  of  human   life   which  roars 


228  SELF-CULTURE. 

unceasingly  along  that  thoroughfare.  On  entering 
London,  landing  at  Tower-stairs,  in  the  midst  of  fog 
and  dirt,  a  sudden  exhilaration  once  seized  me,  winch 
I  could  not  explain  till  I  found,  on  analyzing  it, 
that  it  was  the  sense  of  this  immense  ocean  of  human 
life  around  me.  Nature  with  no  trace  of  human  pres- 
ence is  sublime,  but  cold.  But  any  remains  of 
human  art  —  a  fragment  of  a  ruined  building,  the 
arch  of  a  bridge  over  a  stream  —  at  once  warms  up 
the  scene  with  associations  of  man's  thought  and 
action.  Standing  on  the  shore,  in  the  presence  of 
the  majestic  ocean,  if  you  find  a  child's  playthings 
lying  on  the  sand,  a  glow  of  tenderness  is  added  to 
your  sense  of  the  sublime.  This  human  sympathy 
is  the  electric  chain  with  which  we  art;  all  darkly 
bound.  Even  misanthropy  is  only  philanthropy 
turned  sour.  A  cold-blooded  or  hard-hearted  man 
does  not  become  a  misanthrope. 

But  this  social  instinct  is  not  society,  —  it  is  only 
its  foundation.  Society  means  a  great  deal  more 
than  that.  A  great  city  is  organized  on  the  basis  of 
competition  rather  than  of  co-operation.  It  shows 
us  a  mighty  struggle  for  existence,  in  which  the 
strong  conquer,  and  the  weak  are  crushed.  It  is  a 
battle-field  where  courage,  manliness,  perseverance, 
quickness  of  faculty,  mental  energy,  are  developed, 
but  when;  there  is  not  necessarily  any  common  life. 
Separation,  exclusion,  every  man  for  himself,  is  the 
predominant  character,  as  yet,  of  city  life.  There  is 
no  city  thus  far  in  which  the  people  have  much  in 


THE  AFFECTIONS  AND  SOCIAL    POWERS.     229 

common.  We  in  Boston  have  some  things  in  com- 
mon, however.  The  Common  itself,  the  Public 
Garden,  the  Public  Library,  the  music,  fireworks, 
exhibitions  tor  the  people  on   holidays,  the  public 

baths  in  summer,  —  all  these  are  steps  in  the  right 
direction.  Hut  a  country  town,  where  all  know  all, 
and  participate  in  each  other's  feelings  and  wants, 
is,  at  present,  a  higher  condition  of  social  life  than  a 
city  can  be.  1  once  saw  a  drop  of  water  magnified 
a  million  times  in  the  oxy-hydrogen  microscope,  and 
it  appeared  full  of  fierce  creatures  jerking  violently 
about,  butting  against  each  other  in  every  way, 
seeking  to  bite  and  devour  each  other.  It  seemed 
to  me  no  bad  representation  of  a  great  city. 

True  society  begins  in  the  home.  When  two 
young  people  love  each  other,  and  marry,  they  restore 
the  picture  of  the  apostolic  church.  They  are  of 
one  heart  and  one  soul  ;  neither  do  they  say  that 
anything  they  possess  is  their  own,  but  they  have 
all  things  in  common.  Their  mutual  trust  in  each 
other,  their  entire  confidence  in  each  other,  draws 
out  all  that  is  best  in  both.  Love  is  the  angel  who 
rolls  away  the  stone  from  the  grave  in  winch  we 
bury  our  better  nature,  and  it  comes  forth.  Love 
makes  all  things  new;  makes  a  new  heaven  and  a 
new  earth  ;  makes  all  cares  light,  all  pain  easy.  It 
is  the  one  enchantment  of  human  life  which  realizes 
Fortunio's  purse  and  Aladdin's  palace,  and  turns 
the  "Arabian  Nights"  into  mere  prose  in  compari- 
son.    Think  how  this  old  story  of  love  is  repeated 


230  SELF-CULTURE. 

forever  in  all  the  novels  and  romances  and  poems, 
and  how  we  never  tire  of  reading  about  it ;  and  how, 
if  there  is  to  be  a  wedding  in  a  church,  all  the 
neighbors  go,  just  to  have  one  look  at  two  persons 
who  are  supposed,  at  least,  to  be  in  love,  and  so 
supremely  happy. 

But  this,  also,  is  not  perfect  society.  It  is  too 
narrow,  too  exclusive.  It  shows  the  power  of  devo- 
tion, trust,  self- surrender,  that  there  is  in  the  human 
heart ;  and  it  is  also  a  prophecy  of  something  larger 
that  is  to  come.  But  it  is  at  least  a  home,  and 
before  real  society  can  come,  true  homes  must  come. 
As  in  a  sheltered  nook  in  the  midst  of  the  great  sea 
of  ice  which  rolls  down  from  the  summit  of  Mont 
Blanc  is  found  a  little  green  spot,  full  of  tender 
flowers;  so,  in  the  shelter  of  home,  in  the  warm 
atmosphere  of  household  love,  spring  up  the  pure 
affections  of  parent  and  child ;  father,  mother,  son, 
daughter;  of  brothers  and  sisters.  Whatever  makes 
this  insecure,  and  divorce  frequent,  makes  of  mar- 
riage, not  a  union  for  lite,  but  an  experiment  which 
may  be  tried  as  often  as  we  choose,  and  abandoned 
when  we  like.  And  this  cuts  up  by  the  roots  all  the 
dear  affections  of  home ;  leaves  children  orphaned, 
destroys  fatherly  and  motherly  love,  and  is  a  virtual 
dissolution  <jf  society.  1  know  the  great  difficulties 
of  this  question,  and  how  much  wisdom  is  required 
to  solve  them.  But  whatever  weakens  the  perma- 
nence of  marriage  tends  to  dissolve  society;  for  per- 
manent homes  are  to  the  social  state  what  the  little 


77//-;    AFFECTIONS  AND   SOCIAL   POWERS.     231 

cells  are  to  the  body.  They  are  the  commencement 
of  organic  life,  the  centres  from  which  all  organiza- 
tion proceeds. 

lint  domestic  life,  even  the  best,  does  not  make 
society.  Homes  and  happy  marriages  are  the  foun- 
dations of  society,  but  they  are  no  more  sufficient 
for  it  than  the  cellular  tissue  by  itself  is  sufficient  to 
make  a  body.  Besides  this,  we  need  the  blood  per- 
petually pouring  through  every  part,  and  the  nervous 
fluid  perpetually  animating  every  part.  Something 
is  needed  to  unite  these  separate  homes  into  a  com- 
munity. What  is  the  blood  and  what  the  nervous 
fluid  which  shall  combine  them  into  an  organic 
whole  '. 

The  next  step  from  the  home  in  the  social  scale 
is  the  neighborhood.  By  neighbors  we  mean,  not 
those  who  are  near  us  in  local  position,  but  those 
who  are  near  us  in  social  affinity.  Our  real  neigh- 
bors are  not  those  who  live  in  the  next  house  or 
street,  but  those  who  are  on  the  other  side  of  the 
city,  the  country,  the  world,  provided  they  are  those 
who  love  us,  and  whom  we  love,  —  our  friends, 
those  who  agree  with  us  in  a  common  purpose,  who 
sympathize  with  us  in  our  convictions,  who  are 
borne  along  by  our  side  in  the  same  current  of 
spiritual  life. 

Our  real  society  is  made  up  of  our  friends.  As 
friendship  declines,  society  disappears.  I  hear  great 
complaint  of  the  decay  of  society.  It  is  said  that 
there  is  no  society  now,  only  large  parties.     Young 


232  SELF-CULTURE. 

people  meet  together  in  expensive  entertainments  ; 
hut  where  is  that  society  which  we  all  need,  which 
consists  of  the  coming  together,  in  natural  and  easy 
relations,  of  old  and  young,  men  and  women,  persons 
of  different  tastes  and  various  pursuits,  coming  to- 
gether to  give  and  to  take ;  where  thought,  wit, 
fancy,  feeling,  rule  the  hour ;  where  all  is  easy,  un- 
artificial,  and  yet  refined  and  pure  ? 

Unity  is  necessary  to  constitute  society.  A  hall 
is  not  society ;  a  club  of  men  or  women  is  not 
society ;  parties,  in  which  the  same  people  meet 
over  and  over  again,  are  poor  society.  That  is  the 
penalty  of  exclusiveness  ;  it  excludes  the  new  life 
it  needs.  Exclusive  circles  are  very  stupid  and 
tiresome  ones.  It  takes  all  sorts  of  people  to  make 
good  society,  no  less  than  to  make  a  world.  "  Our 
set "  is  always  the  word  for  a  meeting  where  one  is 
sure  to  he  very  much  bored. 

The  great  queens  of  society  —  for  society,  like  a 
beehive,  is  always  governed  by  a  woman — knew 
this  well.  Nothing  less  aristocratic,  less  exclusive, 
than  the  salons  of  Mme.  Iiecamier  and  the  other 
French  leaders  of  society  in  the  last  century.  The 
secret  is  to  bring  together  people  who  take  an 
interest  in  each  other,  people  who  are  interesting 
to  each  other.  But  no  one  is  really  interesting 
except  the  man  who  is  alive,  whose  soul  is  on  fire 
with  thought,  purpose,  love.  If  you  can  find  such 
persons  as  this,  you  may  dispense  with  your  ice 
cream    and    oysters,   your    footmen    and    music,     I 


THE   AFFECTIONS  AND   SOCIAL    TOWERS.     233 

recollect  such  a  series  of  receptions,  given  years  ago 
in  this  city  by  a  lady.  Her  means  were  small,  her 
rooms  poor;  she  offered  no  entertainment  but  a 
glass  of  water;  but  she  knew  so  many  interesting 
people,  that  you  were  sure  to  find  in  her  rooms  the 
most  charming'  society  imaginable. 

Generosity  and  tact  are  also  necessary  to  make 
good  society.  One  of  the  greatest  social  powers  is 
that  of  drawing  out  other  people.  Some  women 
have  this  power  in  a  high  degree.  By  some  strange 
tact  they  perceive  what  is  the  best  thing  in  us,  and 
by  some  subtle  attraction  they  put  us  on  our  best 
behavior.  We  do  not  see  how  it  is  done.  We 
merely  find  ourselves  very  comfortable,  very  con- 
tented, and  talking  our  very  best.  The  art  of  draw- 
ing out  others  is  much  higher  than  any  power  of 
display.  They  say  of  one  of  the  queens  of  Trench 
society  that,  after  she  became  old  and  poor,  and  had 
gone  into  a  convent,  she  was  still  visited  by  all  the 
brightest  and  best  people  of  Paris.  I  do  not  think 
it  was  out  of  gratitude,  friendship,  or  kindness  that 
they  went.  Xo ;  but  because  she  still  had  the 
faculty  of  drawing  them  out,  and  making  them  con- 
tented with  themselves.  This  is  generosity  and 
insight  joined  in  one  ;  this  is  the  charm  which  age 
cannot  wither  nor  custom  stale. 

We  see,  then,  how  much  of  love,  sympathy, 
generosity,  self-forgetfulness,  go  to  a  right  social 
development.  Put  together  a  company  of  egotistical 
and   self-conceited  people,  and;  no  matter  how  bril- 


234  SELF-CULTURE. 

liant  they  are,  no  matter  how  much  they  know, 
they  have  a  wretched  time.  But  the  moment  the 
early  Christians  came  together,  they  were  of  one 
heart  and  one  soul.  They  had  all  things  in  common. 
They  knew  how  to  give  and  take.  They  did  not 
meet  to  show  oif  their  own  abilities. 

Carlyle  says  of  Richter,  the  German  poet,  that 
vhe  aristocracy  of  the  little  town  of  Hof  excluded 
him  from  its  circles.  He  did  not  belong  to  their 
set.  "  So,"  adds  the  biographer,  "  as  he  could  not 
be  admitted  to  the  West  End  of  Hof,  he  was  obliged 
to  take  up  his  quarters  at  the  west  end  of  the 
universe,  where,  indeed,  he  had  a  splendid  recep- 
tion." 

The  Christian  Church  has  always  furnished  good 
society  to  its  members.  To  be  sure,  in  a  morbid 
state  of  mind,  it  has  sometimes  denounced  society 
altogether,  and  recommended  its  children  to  turn 
monks  and  nuns,  and  live  alone,  and  has  called  this 
religion.  Sometimes  it  has  denounced  innocent 
amusements,  and  made  all  social  life  to  resolve 
itself  into  prayer-meetings  and  the  singing  of  hymns. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  to  how  many  lonely  persons, 
to  how  many  poor  and  forlorn  souls,  to  how  many 
weighed  down  by  sorrow,  lias  it  not  brought  sym- 
pathy, friendship,  and  a  helping  hand  !  In  many 
places,  all  the  society  there  is,  is  that  which  is  made 
by  the  churches.  Men  and  women  go  in  as  stran- 
gers, and  find  themselves  presently  brothers  and 
sisters.     They  find  a  kindly  atmosphere,  good  work 


THE   AFFECTIONS  AND   SOCIAL   POWERS.    235 

to  do,  friendly  faces  to  cheer  them,  and  the  all- 
pervading  sense  of  the  highest  truths  ;  for  there 
is  in  every  church  a  basis  of  serious  conviction  and 
serious  purpose,  and  without  this  society  becomes 
very  trivial  and  empty.  Do  you  not  notice  the 
difference  in  this  respect  in  different  places  ?  I  go 
to  some  homes,  and  immediately  I  find  people  ready 
to  speak  of  something  important,  —  their  minds  are 
interested  in  some  question  of  morals,  intellect, 
politics,  religion,  manners,  art,  or  literature.  Then 
the  conversation  becomes  at  once  interesting.  But 
when  people  meet  with  empty  minds,  people  who 
live  only  for  amusement,  not  for  anything  serious, 
how  commonplace  and  how  superficial  is  the  talk  '. 
Even  when  there  is  talent,  culture,  and  knowledge, 
if  there  is  not  earnestness,  it  does  not  go  to  the  roots 
of  things,  —  it  is  unsatisfactory. 

We  need  all  kinds  of  society,  —  literary,  artistic, 
political,  neighborly;  but  withal  we  need  church 
life  and  the  church  home. 

Both  thought  and  work  tend  to  throw  men  on 
themselves,  and  to  develop  individual  life ;  therefore 
the  social  element  needs  a  more  direct  culture  as 
man  advances.  Civilization  develops  thought  and 
power,  more  than  heart.  Highly  cultivated  people 
are  often  cold,  intellectual  people  reserved,  men  of 
energy  hard.  But  sympathy  and  sentiment  ought 
to  l)e  expressed  as  well  as  felt,  and  so  every  one 
enjoys  the  impulsive  warmth  of  the  Latin  races 
iiu >re  than  our  cool  Saxon  ways.     No  matter  how 


2  3  G  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

much  a  Northern  man  feels,  he  is  ashamed  to  show 
it ;  but  an  Italian  will  shed  tears  openly,  and  think 
it  no  discredit.  Why  not  ?  The  old  Greeks  were 
not  afraid  to  shed  tears,  and  if  Achilles  and  Aga- 
memnon  wept,  why  may  not  we  ?  Why  not  cry,  if 
you  feel  like  crying,  just  as  well  as  to  laugh  when 
you  like  laughing  ?  A  man  is  no  less  manly  for 
showing  his  feelings,  if  they  are  right  ones. 

I  read  a  certain  newspaper  every  week,  and  it  is 
a  very  good  newspaper,  too,  but  it  has  one  foolish 
notion.  It  is  afraid  of  sentiment.  It  seems  to  think 
there  is  nothing  so  bad  as  sentiment.  But  sentiment 
is  nothing  but  thought  blended  with  feeling ;  thought 
made  affectionate,  sympathetic,  moral.  Since  God 
gave  us  sentiment  as  well  as  thought,  since  he  saw 
fit  to  make  us  with  hearts  as  well  as  heads,  why 
need  we  be  afraid  of  sentiment  ?  The  heart  is  often 
wiser  than  the  head,  and  the  worst  heresies  have 
come  from  speculation,  not  from  love.  Let  us  not 
be  ashamed  of  our  affections,  for  these  are  the  best 
gifts  of  heaven.  Without  them  our  life,  as  Cicero 
has  said,  is  not  really  living.  But  what  moments 
will  compare  with  those  in  which  persons  become 
really  intimate  with  each  other;  when  the  barriers 
of  reserve  are  removed;  when  the  deepest  thoughts 
are  kindled  by  the  magnetic  touch  of  a  common 
thought;  when  all  that  is  highest  within  the  soul  is 
made  to  flow  freely  like  brooks  in  June,  leaping 
down  the  side  of  the  mountain!  Only  in  such 
hours  does  man  become  really  himself,  seeing  and 


THE   AFFECTIONS  AND   SOCIAL   TOWERS.     237 

feeling  what  he  really  is.  Such  communion  lifts 
him  above  his  average  days  of  mere  routine  into  a 
better  sphere. 

All  the  forms  of  affection,  except  the  highest,  are 
liable  to  go  astray,  to  run  into  excess,  to  fall  into 
abuse.  Friendship  may  be  too  engrossing;  sym- 
pathy may  make  us  unjust  to  the  absent  for  the 
sake  of  those  present ;  benevolence  and  pity,  unless 
guided  by  judgment,  may  aggravate  the  evils  they 
seek  to  relieve ;  loyalty  often  leads  to  partisanship 
and  bitter  sectarianism  ;  sentiment  may  pass  into 
sentimentalism ;  unintelligent  reverence  produces 
the  dreadful  woes  and  wrongs  of  superstition.  An 
ignorant  piety  torments  men  with  fears,  or  hardens 
the  heart  to  those  who  are  thought  to  be  infidels. 
Therefore  all  these  affections  need  to  be  guided 
and  regulated.     This  is  their  education. 

Thus  guided  or  illuminated,  they  become  an  im- 
mense power,  —  a  great  force.  Light  guides,  but 
love  moves.  Love  is  the  motor  which  carries  man- 
kind onward.  The  education  of  the  social  nature 
consists  in  changing  selfish  affections  into  generous 
affections,  blind  feelings  into  intelligent  attachments, 
and  the  passive  emotions  of  sympathy  into  the  active 
love  of  benevolence. 

The  first  step  of  this  progress  is  from  mere  sym- 
pathy to  thoughtfulness.  It  consists  in  not  merely 
feeling  for  others,  but  thinking  for  them. 

An  emotion  of  sympathy,  unless  it  passes  into 
thoughtful  goodness,  profits  little.     What  men  need 


238  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

is  not  merely  the  goodness  which  feels  for  them,  hut 
the  goodness  which  will  think  for  them,  —  which 
puts  itself  in  their  place,  considers  their  wants, 
anticipates  their  necessity,  and  provides  for  it. 
What  a  blessing  is  a  considerate  person,  and  how 
inconsiderate  much  goodness  is  !  On  occasions  of 
great  calamities,  we  think  for  others  as  well  as  feel 
for  them.  We  send  money,  clothing,  tools,  furniture, 
food, — just  what  they  want,  to  those  whose  homes 
are  desolated  by  fire  or  famine  or  storms.  But 
how  inconsiderate  is  our  average  charity,  which 
lavishes  money  on  the  poor,  but  will  not  think  for 
them !  The  aid  given  every  year  in  this  city,  much 
of  which  only  creates  paupers,  if  wisely  directed, 
would  put  an  end  to  pauperism,  and  greatly  relieve 
poverty.  Thought  added  to  love  makes  real  benevo- 
lence, and  educates  the  character  of  the  donor.  If 
God  loves  a  cheerful  giver,  I  am  sure  lie  also  loves 
a  thoughtful  giver.  How  grateful  we  all  are  to 
those  who  show  that  they  have,  put  thought  into 
their  love  for  us,  anticipating  our  need,  penetrating 
our  obscure  misery,  and  leading  us  up  into  light 
and  peace,  which  otherwise  our  darkened  and 
troubled  soul  could  never  find  ! 

To  educate  the  heart,  one  must  be  willing  to  go 
out  of  himself  and  to  come  into  living  contact  with 
others.  It  is  not  enough  to  think  for  others,  or 
feel  i'or  others,  we  must  feel  with  them  and  think 
with  them.  If  we  would  drive  selfishness  out  of 
our  heart,  we  must  enter  into  communion  with  our 
fellow-men. 


THE   AFFECTIONS  AA'D   SOCIAL    TOWERS.     239 

"  Not  what  we  give,  but  what  we  share, 
For  the  gift  without  the  giver  is  hare." 

You  cannot  make  a  fire  with  a  single  stick,  nor 
can  you  warm  your  heart  by  solitary  efforts  or  soli- 
tary prayers.  This  is  the  mistake  of  the  religious 
people  who  are  always  analyzing  their  own  motives 
to  see  if  there  is  any  real  love  in  their  hearts.  Such 
a  process  would  drive  all  love  out  of  the  heart  of 
an  angel.  It  is  the  mistake  also  of  those  who  culti- 
vate their  tastes  until  they  become  indifferent  to 
man,  while  they  admire  culture,  caring  not  for  the 
diamond,  but  only  for  its  polish.  1  have  known 
literary  men,  scientific  men,  and  artists,  who  had 
cut  themselves  off  from  all  social  sympathy  with 
their  kind,  as  really  as  the  old  anchorites  who  lived 
in  the  caves  of  the  Thebaid.  They  were  hermits  in 
Boston  or  New  York.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 
the  Church  may  again  become  the  centre  of  a  new 
society,  which  shall  unite  rich  and  pool',  the  wise 
and  the  uninstructed ;  which  shall  furnish  means 
of  culture,  works  of  art,  pleasant  society,  innocent 
amusement,  mutual  help.  From  whence  else  is  a 
renewed  society  to  come  ?  Xo  other  root  goes  so 
deep  as  religion  into  the  human  soul;  may  not  the 
tree  which  rises  from  it  again  bear  the  blossoms  and 
fruit  of  a  better  civilization  \  The  Christian  Church 
has  always  been  the  home  of  literature  and  art.  It 
preserved  in  its  libraries  the  knowledge  of  antiquity. 
It  created  schools  of  architecture,  sculpture,  poetry, 
music,  painting.      I    think   it   will   again   flower  out 


240  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

into  beauty,  and  bear  the  fruit?  of  a  better  civiliza- 
tion ;  for  the  root  is  still  by  the  waters  of  life,  and 
fresh  shoots  are  always  coming  from  this  ancient 
trunk. 

The  essence  of  Christianity,  according  to  the  New 
Testament,  is  love.  This  is  the  centre  and  axis  of 
the  Christian  life,  the  cue  tiling  needful.  Jesus 
declares  that  the  first  commandment  is  to  love  God ; 
the  second,  essentially  like  it,  is  to  love  man ;  and 
that  on  these  two.  as  pivots,  hang  all  the  law  and 
the  prophets.  John  declares  that  he  who  loveth, 
dwells  in  God  and  God  in  him  ;  and  that  love  to 
God  and  to  our  neighbor  go  necessarily  together. 
Paul  declares  that  a  faith  which  can  work  the 
mightiest  miracle  is  good  i'or  nothing  apart  from 
love.  The  power  of  faith  in  Christ  is,  that  it 
creates  this  love  in  the  soul,  that  it  inspires  at  once 
a  divine  and  human  affection.  It  brings  God  so 
near,  shows  him  so  closely  to  us  as  a  father,  that  we 
are  made  aide  to  trust  ourselves  wholly  to  him,  and 
to  be  happy  in  the  sense  of  his  presence.  Then  this 
sense  of  the  infinite  tenderness  descends  into  every 
part  of  our  life,  and  makes  all  tilings  new.  It  creates 
a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth.  Sanctified  by  this 
sunny  atmosphere  of  a  simple  piety  and  a  simple 
charity,  heaven  is  here,  the  beginning  of  the  heaven 
which  is  to  come. 

Heaven  in  Scripture  is  represented  as  a  society. 
And  when  I  think  of  it,  I  not  only  think  of  it  as  a 
condition  where  we  shall  know  and  do  more,  but 


THE   AFFECTIONS  AND   SOCIAL    TOWERS.     241 

where  we  shall  be  in  fuller  and  larger  sympathy 
with  others.  There  the  poor  hearts  frozen  up  and 
undeveloped  in  this  life  shall  expand  in  a  warm, 
sunny  atmosphere  of  love  !  There  those  who  have 
been  misunderstood  and  misrepresented  in  this  world 
shall  find  themselves  well-known  by  God  and  the 
angels  of  God !  There  those  who  have  never  been 
able  to  express  themselves,  who  have  been  deprived 
of  the  gift  of  utterance,  shall  know  how  to  talk 
without  words;  like  the  stars,  "  which  have  neither 
speech  nor  language,  yet  their  voice  is  heard ! " 
There  we  shall  enter  into  a  communion  so  intimate, 
that  all  which  the  best  hours  of  this  life  have  given 
shall  seem  as  nothing  to  that  perfect  blending  of 
thought  and  love. 


XI. 


THE  ORGAN  OF  REVERENCE,  AND 
ITS   CULTIVATION. 


XI. 


THE    ORGAN    OF    REVERENCE,    AND 
ITS    CULTIVATION. 


PHRENOLOGISTS  say  that  on  the  very  sum- 
mit of  the  brain  is  an  organ,  which  they  call 
the  organ  of  veneration,  which  impels  men  to  look 
up  and  adore  higher  beings ;  which  prompts  to  the 
worship  of  God ;  which  inspires  reverence  for  par- 
ents, superiors,  and  elders  ;  and  which  is,  in  their 
opinion,  the  religious  organ.  Whether  such  an 
organ  exists,  or  whether  it  does  not  exist,  there  is 
no  doubt  that  there  is  such  a  tendency  in  the  hu- 
man soul,  —  a  tendency  to  look  up  with  reverence 
to  things  higher,  nobler,  and  better  than  we  are  our- 
selves. 

The  nature  of  man,  full  of  antagonisms,  has,  with 
its  self-esteem,  its  self-reliance,  its  self-will,  also  an 
opposite  disposition  :  one  which  leads  one  to  esteem 
others  more  than  one's  self;  to  pay  homage  to  a  su- 
perior virtue  and  a  profounder  knowledge.  If  it  is 
pleasant  to  think  well  of  one's  self,  it  is  more  de- 
lightful to  think  better  of  another.  The  very  same 
person  who  at  one  time  seems  to  esteem  himself,  in 


246  SELF-CULTURE. 

his  egotism,  better  than  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  has 
also  his  moments  of  enthusiastic  reverence  for  noble 
and  generous  souls,  and  forgets  himself  altogether  in 
a  joyful  hero-worship. 

The  tendency  to  reverence  is,  therefore,  natural  to 
man.  It  is  one  of  the  most  universal  of  all  human 
tendencies  ;  it  runs  upward  into  the  purest  piety  ;  it 
sinks  downward  into  the  darkest  superstition.  It  is 
a  sail,  filled  with  the  winds  of  heaven,  to  carry 
us  forward  to  a  better  land  and  time ;  or  it  is  an 
anchor  holding  by  the  black  soil  of  past  abuses  and 
corruptions,  and  so  keeping  the  human  mind  back 
from  all  improvement.  Let  us,  therefore,  consider 
it  in  these  three  forms  :  its  natural  action,  or  normal 
state ;  its  unnatural  action,  or  abnormal  state ;  its 
spiritual  action,  or  higher  state. 

How  lovely  is  reverence  in  children  and  young 
people,  and  how  disagreeable  the  opposite  !  To  look 
up,  submissively  trusting  in  the  superior  wisdom 
and  goodness  of  those  older  than  himself,  elevates 
the  child.  Every  one  is  raised  by  submission  to 
higher  worth.  A  man  in  the  water,  who  cannot 
swim,  if  he  tries  to  lift  himself  up  out  of  the  water, 
will  be  drowned;  but  if  he  will  sink  low  down  into 
it,  he  will  float.  In  this  world,  those  who  are  will- 
ing to  sink  will  float  ;  and  the  saying  of  Jesus  comes 
true  in  many  ways,  "  He  that  oxalteth  himself  shall 
be  abased,  but  he  that  humbleth  himself  shall  be 
exalted."  The  modesty  born  of  reverence  seems 
natural  to  vouth.     I  know  that  in  this  I  am  contra- 


REVERENCE,   AND   ITS   CULTIVATION.      247 

dieting  a  great  master  of  human  nature,  the  German 
writer,  Goethe.  In  one  of  his  hooks  lie  represents 
his  hero  visiting  an  educational  institution.  Seeing 
the  hoys  standing  erect,  in  various  attitudes,  he  asks 
the  meaning  of  these  positions.  The  teacher  re- 
plies, that  "  Nature  has  given  many  endowments  to 
children,  which  the  teacher  has  only  to  develop  ;  but 
one  thing  the  child  does  not  bring  into  the  world 
with  him,  and  yet  it  is  on  this  one  thing  that  all 
depends  for  making  man  wholly  a  man.  This  one 
thing,"  he  continues,  "  is  reverence."  He  then 
goes  on  to  speak  of  the  three  kinds  of  reverence, 
which  must  be  joined  into  one  to  produce  the 
highest  quality.  The  first  of  these  three  rever- 
ences is  reverence  for  what  is  above  us,  especially 
for  (rod,  who  images  himself  in  parents  and  superi- 
ors. The  second  is  respect  for  our  equals ;  the 
third,  or  the  Christian  reverence,  is  respect  and 
honor  for  our  inferiors.  "  These,"  he  continues,  "  are 
not  based  on  fear,  as  some  think ;  for  fear  and  rev- 
erence are  wholly  different.  Fear  drives  us  away 
from  its  object,  but  reverence  attracts  us  toward  it. 
To  fear,"  he  adds,  "  is  easy,  but  painful;  to  rever- 
ence is  difficult,  but  satisfactory.  Man  does  not 
willingly  submit  to  reverence:  it  is  a  higher  sense, 
which  is  communicated  to  his  nature,  and  only  in 
some  peculiarly  favored  individuals  does  it  unfold 
itself  spontaneously." 

"With  all  deference  to  this  great  thinker,  I  must 
prefer  the  phrenological  observers,  and  assume,  with 


248  SELF-CULTURE. 

them,  that  reverence  is  natural  to  mankind.  It  is 
the  crown  of  the  moral  nature.  It  is,  perhaps,  the 
last  faculty  to  be  fully  developed  in  man  ;  but  it 
appears  in  innocent  childhood,  in  the  modesty  of 
youth,  and  gives  to  both  no  small  part  of  their 
charm.  It  attracts  the  young  to  the  old,  the  igno- 
rant to  the  wise,  the  timid  to  the  brave,  even  the 
sinful  to  the  pure  and  noble.  So  it  tends  to  ele- 
vate by  bringing  us  under  the  influence  of  those 
nobler  and  better  than  ourselves.  The  man  who 
chooses  to  be  with  his  inferiors  is  degraded ;  to  love 
to  be  with  our  superiors  elevates  us.  A  great  poet 
has  said :  — 

"  Philip  has  that 
Of  inborn  meanness  in  him  that  he  loves  not 
The  company  of  equals  or  superiors  ; 
Never  at  ease  except  be  struts  the  best 
And  crows  the  loudest  of  the  company." 

There  is  another  quality  in  reverence  which  is 
very  noticeable.  It  gives  a  sense  of  what  is  har- 
monious, fit,  and  suitable.  It  perceives  everywhere 
what  is  becoming.  It  opposes  whatever  is  abrupt 
and  discordant.  An  egotistical  person,  who  respects 
no  one  but  himself,  is  a  jar  and  discord.  He  pushes 
forward  his  own  will,  notion,  and  purpose,  in  season 
and  out  of  season.  But  he  who  has  reverence  fol- 
lows the  higher  law  which  gives  order  to  all  things, 
and  feels  the  beauty  of  that  universal  harmony 
which  descends  from  God.  He  obeys  the  spirit  of 
God  in  promoting  order  and  beauty  in  all  tilings. 


REVERENCE,    AND   ITS   CULTIVATION.      249 

Therefore   it   is    that    Shakspeare    calls   reverence 
"the  angel  of  the  world." 

"  Reverence, 

That  angel  of  the  world,  doth  make  distinction 

Of  place  'twixt  high  and  low." 

The  phrenologists,  we  have  seen,  make  it  the  re- 
ligions organ.  1  think  it  one  organ  of  religion,  but 
not  the  only  source  of  religion.  It  leads  to  worship 
devotion,  and  the  exercise  of  piety.  But  piety  and 
devotion  constitute  only  one  part  of  religion.  Those 
who  have  a  great  deal  of  this  lovely  natural  tend- 
ency within  them  enjoy  prayer,  enjoy  worship,  en- 
joy religious  books,  religious  hymns,  and  religious 
meetings.  But  this  is  only  one  part  of  religion. 
The  sentiment  of  piety  is  sweet  and  holy,  but  re- 
ligion is  also  action  and  thought.  It  rests  on  a  deep 
conviction  of  the  reality  of  God's  being,  of  duty,  of 
immortality.  It  is  also  doing  good  works.  We 
must  not  suppose  that  one  cannot  be  religious  who 
has  not,  by  nature,  a  love  for  worship,  for  religion 
comes  to  us  in  many  ways. 

A  person  to  whom  it  is  not  natural  to  look  up  in 
adoration,  or  to  pray  the  prayer  of  sentiment,  and 
lias  no  tendency  to  natural  piety,  may  yet  be  really  a 
Christian.  He  may  come  to  God  through  convic- 
tion and  conscience ;  he  may  pray  to  God  because 
he  sees  that  prayer  helps  him,  gives  him  strength  to 
do  his  duty,  to  resist  temptation.  His  prayers  will 
not  be  long  ;  but,  then,  Jesus  did  not  ask  us  to 
make  long  prayers,  but  to  make  real  prayers.      Five 


250  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

words  from  a  deep  conviction  are  better  than  fifty- 
said  by  rote,  or  coining  merely  from  a  religions 
sentimentalism.  If  yon  have  a  good  deal  of  natural 
piety,  be  thankful ;  but  if  you  have  it  not,  be 
not  discouraged.     There  are  other  ways  of  finding 

(rOd. 

But  this  faculty  of  reverence  has  also  its  unnat- 
ural, abnormal  tendencies.  Its  unnatural  action  is 
superstition.  The  only  thing  which  deserves  rever- 
ence is  spirit ;  God  as  spirit,  and  God's  spirit  de- 
scending into  man  and  nature  as  truth  and  love,  as 
justice  and  heroism.  But  as  God's  spirit  and  man's 
spirit  are  seen  and  known  through  some  outward 
form,  we  often  confound  these,  and  reverence  the 
form  instead  of  the  spirit,  the  1  tody  instead  of  the 
soul.  This  is  idolatry.  Because  God  comes  to  us 
in  nature,  in  the  sun  and  stars,  in  the  storm  and 
calm,  in  the  events  of  life,  ethnic  nations  have  wor- 
shipped the  sun,  the  fire,  the  sky,  the  thunder,  the 
ocean.  So,  in  Christianity,  men  have  had  a  super- 
stitious reverence  for  forms ;  they  have  regarded 
them  not  as  means,  but  as  ends.  They  reverence 
the  externals  of  religion,  instead  of  its  inner  life. 

Thus  men  worship  the  bones  of  martyrs,  sacred 
pictures,  sacred  places.  Thus,  in  Naples,  they  wor- 
ship St.  Januarius ;  in  Bologna,  St.  Petronius.  Thus, 
in  Jerusalem,  they  worship  tin;  sacred  five,  and 
trample  each  other  to  death  in  trying  to  procure  it. 
Tims,  Protestants  worship  blindly  the  Sabbath,  the 
Bible,  the  sacraments,  as  though   these  were  holy  in 


REVERENCE,    AND    ITS    CULTIVATION.      251 

themselves,  instead  of  being  good  only  as  they  ean 
make  men  good. 

So  sensible  ;i  writer  as  Miss  Yonge  intimates  that 
it  is  just  possible  that  an  unbaptized  child  may  be 
damned  because  that  rite  has  been  neglected.  But 
liobertson  says  that  sueh  a  view  of  baptism  makes 
of  it  a  charm  to  save  the  child  from  God,  instead  of 
a  sacrament  to  bring  it  to  God. 

Such  is  the  power  of  association,  that  whatever  is 
associated  with  our  highest  hours  and  best  feelings 
becomes  itself  an  object  of  admiration  and  venera- 
tion. We  read  in  the  Bible  that  the  brazen  serpent, 
which  Moses  had  lifted  up  in  the  wilderness,  had 
been  preserved  to  the  time  of  Hezekiah  ;  that  is, 
about  seven  centuries.  "What  a  sacred  relic  it  was, 
and  how  worthy  of  preservation  !  If  modern  Chris- 
tians had  only  such  a  relic  as  this,  —  so  authentic 
and  holy,  —  how  would  they  prize  it!  But  Hez- 
ekiah found  that  it  had  become  an  object  of  wor- 
ship, therefore  he  broke  it  in  pieces,  and  called  it 
"  Nehushtan,"  which  means  "  a  piece  of  brass."  This 
must  have  greatly  shocked  the  feelings  of  the  Israel- 
ites .  This  was,  indeed,  a  sacred  relic,  and  seemed 
worthy  of  veneration.  Think  of  his  destroying  it 
and  calling  it  a  piece  of  brass  ! 

So  the  Jews  felt  when  Jesus  said,  "  The  Sabbath 
is  made  for  man,  not  man  for  the  Sabbath."  So  many 
persons  felt  when  a  modern  writer  suggested  that 
there  might  be  piano-fortes,  or  their  analogous,  in 
heaven.     But  these  tilings  must  be  said  in  order  to 


252  SELF-CULTURE. 

bring  us  out  of  a  merely  sentimental  habit  of  relig- 
ious formalism  to  the  worship  of  spirit  and  reality. 
When  people  adore  a  stone  or  a  piece  of  brass, 
and  call  it  God ;  when  they  worship  a  piece  of 
bread,  and  call  it  God;  when  they  sanctify  ancient 
forms,  liturgies,  costume,  candles,  crosses,  and  think 
them  sacred,  —  some  one  must  break  these  idols  in 
pieces,  and  say,  "  They  are  Nehushtan,  —  a  piece  of 
brass." 

The  habits  of  our  ancestors  led  them  to  regard 
with  reverence  the  house  of  worship.  The  building 
where  the  church  assembled  came  itself  to  be  called 
the  church,  just  as  the  body  in  which  the  man 
dwells  is  regarded  as  the  man.  This  reverence  for 
the  house  of  worship  is  passing  away,  and  we  now 
often  miss  the  devout  stillness  and  quiet  which 
used  to  mark  a  congregation  assembled  to  worship. 
Travellers  say  that  you  may  go  into  a  Turkish 
mosque  full  of  people,  and  so  intense  is  the  stillness, 
that,  if  you  were  to  close  your  eyes,  you  might  sup- 
pose yourself  alone.  I  confess  I  prefer  that  extreme 
to  the  other.  I  do  not  like  to  see  people  whisper- 
ing, assuming  careless  attitudes,  or  reading  during  a 
religious  service.  I  do  not  like  a  noisy  introduction 
to  public  worship.  This  is  not  from  my  regard  to  a 
sacredness  inherent  in  the  place,  but  from  a  sense  of 
fitness.  You  would  not  go  laughing  into  a  house 
of  mourning,  much  as  you  may  believe  that  death 
comes  from  God  as  a  blessing.  You  would  not 
dance  at  a  funeral,  nor  pray  in  a  ball-room.     There 


REVERENCE,   AND   ITS   CULTIVATION.      253 

is  a  fitness  in  things,  and  one  is  disturbed  by  any 
such  incongruity  in  the  house  of  worship. 

Let  a  church  be  like  a  home,  but  like  one  where 
the  Great  Father  conies  to  meet  his  children,  and 
where  awe  and  veneration  mingle  with  love,  to 
make  joy  more  sweet  and  more  profound.  The 
associations  of  a  place  influence  the  mind.  These 
associations  are  helps  to  us.  Why  do  you  love  to 
go  to  the  place  in  the  woods  where  you  last  saw 
your  friend,  and  talked  with  him  ?  Because  the 
associations  which  surround  you  there  bring  hack 
your  friend  to  you,  and  you  seem  to  be  once  more 
together.  So  when  people  enter  the  church,  where 
their  hearts  have  been  lifted  to  God,  and  filled  with 
a  new  purpose  of  obedience,  where  the  hymns  and 
prayers  have  taken  them  up  to  a  higher  plane  of 
thought,  they  are,  by  the  very  associations  of  the 
place,  led  into  a  devout  frame,  and  it  is  not  good  to 
have  these  associations  disturbed. 

The  highest  action  of  this  sentiment  of  reverence 
is  to  feel  the  spirit  of  God  in  all  things  ;  to  feel  God 
in  nature,  history,  providence,  our  own  lives,  and  in 
all  the  good  and  great  souls  who  have  lived.  It  is  to 
be  filled  with  awe,  wonder,  and  love,  in  view  of  the 
greatness  and  goodness  everywhere.  It  is  to  chevish 
a  habit  of  looking  upward,  and  seeing  what  is  noble 
and  good  in  all  things. 

This  elevates  the  character,  gives  dignity  and  joy 
t<>  life,  and  produces  that  charming  serenity,  that 
gracious  beautv,  which  softens  all  hearts.     In  Jesus 


254  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

Christ  we  see  this  spirit  iii  its  highest  form.  He 
was  a  reformer ;  he  denounced  the  superstitions  of 
his  day.  He  was  called  a  Sabbath-breaker,  because 
he  healed  the  sick  on  the  Sabbath,  and  walked  with 
his  disciples  in  the  fields ;  he  denounced  the  men 
thought  most  holy,  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees ;  but 
he  was  full  of  this  deep  reverence  for  God,  as  his 
Father,  and  the  Father  of  all.  He  saw  a  divine 
goodness  in  all  men  and  in  all  things.  So  he  had 
respect,  not  only  for  the  great  men  and  the  prophets, 
but  for  the  poor,  the  low,  the  despised.  He  intro- 
duced into  the  world  that  new  form  of  reverence,  — 
reverence  for  things  below  us  ;  reverence  for  little 
children,  for  the  ignorant,  the  poor,  the  suffering; 
yes,  reverence  for  the  soul  of  man  even  when  most 
degraded  by  sin.  This  is  the  foundation  of  true 
democracy;  the  only  basis  for  any  real  equality. 
Christianity  makes  human  equality  real ;  not  by 
destroying  the  differences  among  men,  but  by  teach- 
ing the  good  to  seek  and  save  the  evil;  the  wise  to 
instruct  the  ignorant;  the  rich  to  care  for  the  poor; 
the  strong  to  uphold  the  weak.  This  reverence  for 
all  men,  because  all  are  God's  children,  is  the  highest 
attainment  of  man.  To  look  up  and  adore  is  easy  ; 
but  to  look  down  and  respect  what  is  below  us  is 
far  more  difficult.  But  this  spirit  Christ  has  im- 
parted to  the  world. 

"  He  who  loveth  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath 
seen,  how  can  he  love  God  whom  he  hath  not  seen  ?  " 
says  the  Apostle.    "  He  who  reverences  not  the  good- 


REVERENCE,    AND    ITS    CULTIVATION.      2.J0 

ness  In;  has  seen,  how  can  he  reverence  that  which 

lie  has  not  seen  ?"  He  who  despises  man  will  de- 
spise God.  Irreverence  toward  (rod  often  comes 
from  disrespect  toward  man. 

The  young  people  of  our  time  are  said  to  be  want- 
ing in  reverence.  They  are  often  generous  and 
sympathizing;  they  are  true  and  honorable.  This 
cdass  of  virtues  they  believe  in.  But  they  do  not 
believe  in  those  born  of  reverence.  They  have  some- 
what lost  the  old  respect  for  woman.  They  con- 
sider it  in  good  taste  to  be  rude  to  ladies,  and  to 
treat  them  as  comrades;  and  ladies  submit  to  be 
so  treated.  They  do  not  rise  up  to  honor  the  hoary 
head.  They  keep  their  seats  in  the  arm-chair  when 
their  father  or  mother  conies  in.  In  my  youth,  the 
form  which  self-conceit  took  was  admiration  for 
one's  self  as  a  person  of  genius  or  talent  before  any 
evidence  of  that  fact  appeared.  Xow,  the  conceit 
which  boys  have  of  themselves  is  that  they  are 
singularly  manly,  heroic,  and  powerful.  Then,  they 
adored  talent ;  now  they  respect  force.  This  is  en- 
couraged by  the  boys'  newspapers  and  story-books, 
which  teach  that  if  a  boy  will  defy  all  laws,  be 
disrespectful  to  his  parents,  and  run  away  from 
home,  he  will  certainly  become  an  eminent  person 
and  meet  with  much  success.  So  we  see  little  boys 
affecting  manliness  by  smoking  cigars  in  the  streets, 
by  brutal  manners,  by  airs  of  independence,  ami  by 
general  disrespect  to  their  elders  and  superiors.  For 
tin?  reason  they  should  be  taught  the  beauty  there 


2 5  6  SEL E-Cl  7.  Tl  'RE. 

is  in  good  manners,  and  that  without  modesty  there 
is  no  real  manliness. 

"  I  was  horn  in  an  unlucky  time,"  said  a  lady. 
"  When  I  was  young,  I  was  obliged  to  respect  and 
obey  my  parents,  and  now  1  am  obliged  to  respect 
and  obey  my  children."  An  irreverent  age  is  want- 
ing in  the  highest  sentiment  of  man.  To  "look  up" 
is  the  noblest  of  all  powers.  The  small  egotism 
which  loves  to  look  down  on  others  wilts  the  soul. 

During  the  Middle  Ages  the  influence  of  the 
Church  was  so  great  that  it  produced  an  excess  of 
reverence.  You  see  this  in  the  pictures  before 
Raphael.  Compare,  for  example,  a  "  Crucifixion " 
by  these  early  masters  with  one  by  Rubens.  In  the 
last,  all  is  natural  and  free  :  each  man  is  acting  as 
he  would  in  actual  life.  The  Magdalen,  dissolved 
in  tears,  embraces  the  feet  of  her  friend,  her  fulness 
of  life  contrasting  with  the  leaden  death  of  Christ. 
Tin1  disciples,  in  every  attitude  of  disappointment 
and  despair,  stand  around.  The  Roman  soldier,  in 
the  most  business-like  way,  is  striking  his  spear 
into  the  side  of  Jesus.  The  centurion,  on  his  horse, 
is  studying  with  deep  interest  the  face  of  Jesus. 
But  a  medi;eval  artist,  or  a  pre-Raphaelite  imitator, 
would  make  all  their  faces  full  of  the  same  awe- 
struck reverence.  The  cruel  soldier  would  be  strik- 
ing his  spear  as  though  he  were  saying  a  prayer. 
The  centurion  would  hang  down  his  head  like  a 
bulrush.  So  mediaeval  piety  turned  all  human  life 
into  awe,  wonder,  and  tear.     Everything  connected 


REVERENCE,   AND   ITS  CULTIVATION.      1'u 

with  religion  was  venerable,  it  was  sacrilege  not 
to  reverence  churches,  masses,  saints,  relics,  as  much 
as  (  mhI  himself. 

From  all  this  there  has  come  a  reaction.  Few 
things  now  seem  sacred.  The  awe  and  mystery  has 
been  brushed  away  from  human  life,  lieason,  sci- 
ence, criticism,  have  carried  their  torches,  their  cal- 
cium lamps,  their  argand  burners,  into  every  recess 
of  the  soul.     So  reverence  has  died  out  of  the  heart. 

No,  it  has  not  .'  Nothing  which  God  puts  into 
man  can  ever  pass  away.  What  he  gives,  lie  gives 
forever.  I  see  and  admit  the  apparent  irreverence 
of  our  day.  I  lament  that  young  men  and  women 
are  not  more  modest,  and  that  no  sense  of  sacred 
associations  seems  left  to  them.  They  have  nothing 
holy,  —  no  holy  Bible,  no  holy  Sabbath,  nothing 
sacred,  even  in  the  Gospels,  or  the  Christ.  The 
time  has  come  in  which  men  peep  and  scrutinize 
over  the  grave  of  their  mother.  We  wish  now  to 
know  everything.  But  1  think  that  knowledge 
will  awaken  reverence  once  more.  The  greatest 
and  wisest  of  men  have  always  bowed  down  in  awe 
before  the  mysteries  of  creation.  The  lamp  of  sci- 
ence reveals  the  immense  and  inscrutable  wonders 
which  surround  what  we  know.  Egotism,  conceit, 
and  vanity  come  when  we  know  a  little  :  when  we 
know  more,  awe  and  reverence  return.  Therefore  1 
believe  that  knowledge  and  science  is  creating  an- 
other reverence,  surely  higher  and  better  than  that 
lor  forms  and  ceremonies.  —  a  reverence  for  all  reality. 

17 


2 f)  8  SELF- CUL  TURE. 

To  educate  the  sense  of  reverence  we  must  once 
more  recognize  its  beauty  and  nobility.  We  must 
see  that,  without  it,  the  best  charm  of  life  is  gone. 
He  who  cannot  look  up  to  something  better  than 
himself  acquires  that  cynical  and  contemptuous 
spirit  which  is  so  odious  and  so  repulsive.  The 
sense  of  reverence  needs  +o  be  educated,  and  this  is 
the  truth  in  the  remark  of  Goethe.  It  is  cultivated 
by  looking  up  and  not  down  ;  by  choosing  for  our 
associates  the  best  and  wisest  men  and  women  ;  by 
seeking  for  companions  the  intelligent,  the  generous, 
and  the  good.  It  is  cultivated  by  looking  for  the 
good  in  men  and  things,  rather  than  evil;  by  seek- 
ing truth  rather  than  error;  by  reading  noble  books 
in  which  this  spirit  prevails  ;  by  choosing  the  com- 
pany in  which  serious  and  noble  things  are  treated, 
seriously.  In  such  society  the  best  part  of  our  na- 
ture grows,  while,  among  the  flippant  and  the  frivol- 
ous, we  also  become  small  and  empty.  It  is  good 
to  believe  in  heroes  and  heroism,  in  saints  and  mar- 
tyrs. It  is  good  to  read  and  study  the  lives  of  the 
generous  and  disinterested,  the  pure  in  heart,  those 
who  suffer  for  righteousness'  sake.  Avoid  the  at- 
mosphere which  is  full  of  sneers  at  generosity,  which 
doubts  sentiment,  which  distrusts  conscience,  which 
calls  all  religion  hypocrisy.  Those  who  try  to  exalt 
themselves  by  criticising  and  finding  fault  with  that 
which  others  reverence,  become  very  small  and  very 
mean.  Fault-finding  is  about  the  poorest,  as  well  as 
the  easiest,  work   one  can  do.      book   for  truth,  for 


REVERENCE,    AND    ITS   CULTIVATION.      259 

goodness,  for  honesty,  and  you  will  find  these.  It 
may  seem  very  smart  and  very  witty  to  speak  irrev- 
erently of  parents,  elders,  the  past,  of  religion,  the 
church,  the  Uible  ;  but  you  have  to  pay  a  heavy 
price  for  that  wit.  Your  mind  grows  flippant  and 
poor.  That  which  comes  out  of  your  mouth  defiles 
you.  This  is  the  harm  of  profanity.  It  does  not 
injure  God  to  take  his  name  in  vain,  but  it  injures 
you.  Every  time  you  utter  an  oath  you  are  laying 
another  stone  on  the  wall  between  yourself  and  heav- 
enly things.  You  are  degrading  your  nature,  dark- 
ening your  mind,  making  faith  in  things  unseen 
more  difficult.  But  all  serious  and  earnest  conver- 
sation on  high  themes  lifts  us  up  nearer  to  that  of 
which  we  think  and  speak. 

lie  who  closes  the  door  in  his  heart  against  the 
noble,  the  great,  the  wonderful,  the  venerable,  has 
shut  himself  out  from  the  best  joy  of  life.  There  is 
nothing  better  can  enter  into  the  human  soul  than 
reverence  for  high  things.  This  sentiment  lifts  us 
above  ourselves,  brings  us  into  the  heavenly  world, 
and  admits  us  to  the  society  of  angels  and  archan- 
gels, dominions  and  [towers,  seraphim  and  cherubim. 

He  who  believes  in  goodness  has  the  essence?  of 
all  faith.  He  is  a  man  "  of  cheerful  yesterdays  and 
confident  to-morrows." 

This  faith  in  goodness,  this  reverence  for  the  di- 
vine in  nature  and  man,  is  what  we  need.  Whoever 
can  give  us  this  is  our  best  benefactor.  Whoever 
takes  it  away  is  our  chief  enemv.      The  road  which 


L'lll  I  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

goes  upward  toward  God,  beauty,  truth,  heaven,  is 
the  path  of  faith  and  worship.  That  which  goes 
downward  is  the  way  of  self-conceit,  of  contempt, 
of  cynicism,  of  scorn.  Let  our  prayer  be  that  we 
unlearn  contempt  and  learn  to  adore.  Let  us  pray 
to  the  Most  High  God,  to  him  who  wrapped  the 
cloud  of  infancy  around  us  and  communed  with  us 
in  the  undisturbed  simplicity  of  childhood;  to  him 
who  from  the  anarchy  of  dreams,  with  punctual  care 
and  touch  as  gentle  as  the  coming  of  dawn,  restores 
us  every  day  to  light  and  reason.  Call  on  him  in 
your  weakness  and  say  :  — - 

"  Soul  of  our  souls,  and  safeguard  of  the  world, 
Sustain,  thou  only  canst,  the  sick  of  heart. 
Restore  their  languid  spirits,  and  recall 
Their  lost  affections  unto  thee  and  thine." 


XII. 
EDUCATION  BY  MEANS  OF  MONEY 


XII. 
EDUCATION  BY  MEANS  OF  MONEY. 


THE  desire  for  wealth  is  nearly  universal,  and 
lias  been  so  from  the  earliest  times.  Money 
represents  everything  which  may  be  purchased.  To 
be  rich  means  to  be  able  to  have  a  comfortable  house 
in  a  healthy  situation,  with  plenty  of  sunshine  and 
air  ;  to  have  good  books  to  read,  fine  pictures  to 
look  at ;  to  go  to  the  mountains  or  to  the  sea  in 
summer  ;  to  travel  in  Europe  ;  to  have  time  and 
leisure  for  study ;  good  society,  pleasant  acquaint- 
ances, recreation  of  all  sorts,  —  horses,  sail-boats, 
and  the  like.  It  represents,  also,  the  power  of  help- 
ing the  poor,  giving  to  hospitals  and  other  charities, 
building  model  lodging-houses,  saving  the  Old  South 
Church,  paying  the  debt  of  the  Young  Men's  Chris- 
tian Union,  establishing  reform  schools,  founding- 
professorships  in  colleges  or  industrial  schools  where 
boys  and  girls  can  be  taught  how  to  make  their  liv- 
ing. He  who  possesses  money  has  potentially  in 
his  possession  everything  which  may  be  bought  with 
money.     We  know  that  knowledge  is  power;  money 


264  SELF-CULTURE. 

also  is  power.     It  is  influence,  it  is  distinction,  and 
it  seems  to  have  in  itself  all  earthly  possibilities. 

But  not  quite  all ;  not  the  best  things.  >Some 
things  escape  its  power  All  that  is  purcliasuhlc  it 
possesses,  actually  or  potentially  ;  but  some  things 
are  not  purchasable,  You  cannot  buy  health,  genius, 
knowledge,  character,  nobleness  of  soul,  friendship  or 
love,  with  money.  And  when  you  desire,  most  of 
all,  any  of  the  unpurchasable  articles,  money  loses 
its  power.'  A  steamer  in  the  mid- Atlantic  en- 
countered a  storm,  and  was  so  shattered  that  all 
who  could,  took  to  the  boats.  One  man,  left  on 
deck,  offered  tens  of  thousands  of  dollars  in  gold  for 
a  place  in  the  boat,  and,  being  refused,  dashed  the 
money  down,  where;  it  was  kicked  aside  as  worthless 
by  those  who  were  trying  to  find  some  way  of  safety. 
Any  higher  love  drives  the  love  of  money  out  of  the 
heart.  •  The  love  of  art,  the  enthusiasm  for  knowl- 
edge, an  interest  in  science,  or  religious  devotion, 
expels  the  greed  of  gain.  Agassiz  refused  the  largest 
pecuniary  offers  for  his  services,  saying  he  "  could 
not  afford  the  time  to  make  money."  Turner,  though 
loving  wealth,  loved  his  art  more,  and  often  refused 
the  highest  prices  for  his  pictures,  because  lie  could 
not  bear  to  part  with  them.  Much  as  we  may  de- 
sire the  power  which  belongs  to  wealth,  there  is  that 
winch  none  of  us  would  sell  at  any  price.  Maturin 
wrote  a  story,  called  "Melmoth,"  based  on  this  idea. 
Melmoth  had  sold  himself  to  the  devil  for  unlimited 
wealth  and  power,  and  also  on  the  condition  that,  if 


EDUCATION  BY  MEANS   OE  MONEY.        2G5 

lie  could  find  any  one  to  take  his  place,  he  could 
himself  escape  at  last.  So  lie  seeks  shipwrecked 
and  starving  mariners,  those  who  art;  about  to  he 
burnt  alive  by  the  Inquisition,  and  oilers  them  life, 
safety,  riches,  all  earthly  joy,  if  they  will  sell  their 
soul.  All  refuse;  no  one  is  found,  in  all  the  wide 
earth,  plunged  in  any  such  depth  of  anguish  or  de- 
spair as  to  lie  willing  to  exchange  places  with  him. 
And  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  this  represents 
truly  what  would  probably  be  the  result.  We  do 
sell  our  souls,  blindly  and  ignorantly,  every  day,  for 
a  much  smaller  price  ;  but  we  would  not  do  this 
deliberately  for  any  kind  of  compensation. 

The  Bible  is  often  quoted  as  though  it  said  that 
"  Money  is  the  root  of  all  evil."  What  it  really 
says  is,  that  "  The  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all 
evil."  Money,  in  itself,  is  neither  good  nor  bad  ;  it 
is  good  or  bad  according  as  it  is  sought  for  in  right 
or  wrong  ways  ;  as  it  is  used  wisely  or  unwisely  ; 
lavished  foolishly,  or  hoarded  meanly;  squandered 
where  it  does  harm,  or  bestowed  where  it  does  good. 
It  is  nothing  in  itself,  but  the  best  thing  or  the  worst 
thing,  according  as  it  is  treated. 

In  the  curious  story,  by  Chamisso,  called  "Peter 
Schlemihl,"  there  is  a  rich  man,  who  has  by  his  side, 
always,  a  demon  in  waiting,  who  takes  from  his 
pocket  anything  his  master  wishes.  The  master 
wishes  for  a  telescope  to  examine  a  distant  ship  : 
the  demon  supplies  him  with  one.  He  says.  "  It  is 
very  hot  ;   I  wish  we  had  a  tent."     A  tent  instantly 


266  SELF-CULTURE. 

emerges  from  the  capacious  pocket  of  the  convenient 
servant.  Finally,  the  master  wishes  for  carriages 
and  horses  to  convey  the  whole  party  to  the  city, 
and  the  demon  takes  from  his  pocket  as  many  as 
are  necessary.  It  is  evident  that,  with  such  an  at- 
tendant, one  would  have  no  use  for  money,  for  he 
could  have  everything  at  once,  without  the  trouble 
of  buying  it. 

Money,  taken  in  the  largest  sense,  as  the  repre- 
sentative of  all  kinds  of  property,  is  one  of  the 
greatest  means  of  human  education.  Accumulated 
capital  means  progress  ;  constitutes  the  difference 
between  the  savage  and  the  partly  civilized  condi- 
tions. Property,  to  exist,  must  be  protected  by  the 
community  from  violence.  Tims  lav:  becomes  su- 
perior to  force.  In  order  that  any  one  should  hold 
his  property  securely,  all  must  be  defended.  The 
weakest  child,  the  feeblest  woman  or  old  man,  holds 
his  property  as  safely  to-day,  in  Christian  countries, 
as,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  the  baron,  living  in  his 
castle  of  stone,  and  behind  iron  gates,  held  his. 
Thus  the  accumulation  of  property  or  capital  lias 
been  gradually  extending  the  reign  of  law.  and 
beating  back  the  reign  of  force.  Xhis.  already,  is  a 
great  education  to  a  community;  for  it  causes  all 
men  to  feel  the  presence  of  law,  as  an  invisible  but 
ever-active  power,  ready  to  defend  right  and  punish 
wrong. 

Moreover,  the  presence  of  capital,  or  accumulated 
property,  in  a  community,  means  more  of  the  neces- 


EDUCATION  BY  MEANS   OF  MONEY.        2G  < 

saries  and  comforts  of  life,  —  not  for  the  rich  only, 
but  for  all  persons.  Capital  which  is  hoarded  does 
not  accumulate;  to  increase,  it  must  be  used.  It 
cannot  be  used  without  furnishing  employment  and 
wages  to  large  numbers  of  persons.  Their  labor 
creates  more  capital,  which  must  also  bo  used  in 
producing  the  comforts  and  luxuries  which  all 
desire.  )  Capital,  associated  with  labor,  spins  and 
weaves  cotton  ;  makes  carpets,  glass,  bricks  ;  erects 
houses;  brings  water  into  a  city;  prints  newspapers 
and  books;  paints  pictures  ;  builds  railroads.  These, 
which  were  once  the  luxuries  of  a  few,  gradually 
became  the  comforts,  and  at  last  the  necessaries,  of 
all.  The  laboring  man  in  Boston,  when  he  rises, 
dresses  himself  in  cloth  made  in  the  factories  of 
England  or  Massachusetts,  from  wool  raised  in  Aus- 
tralia, and  cotton  grown  in  Alabama.  As  he  sits 
down  to  breakfast,  he  finds  that  cattle  have  been 
brought  from  Texas,  and  flour  from  Minnesota,  that 
he  might  have  his  steak  and  his  bread;  and  ships 
have  crossed  the  ocean  to  bring  him  his  pepper  and 
his  salt.  The  table  on  which  he  eats  is  made,  of 
wood  cut  in  the  "West  Indies.  The  tumbler  from 
which  he  drinks  is  the  result  of  the  science  and  skill 
which  has  at  last  made  glass  both  beautiful  and 
cheap.  1  lis  house  is  more  comfortable  than  was 
the  palace  of  King  Alfred  or  William  the  ( 'oiupieror. 
lie  rides  to  his  work  in  a  railway  car  which  is  vastly 
superior  to  the  carriages  in  which  duchesses  rode 
fiftv    vears   au'O.      He    stops,    on    his   return,   at   tlio 


208  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

Public  Library,  and  has  a  selection  of  reading  which 
would  have  been  impossible  to  the  greatest  students 
fifty  years  ago  ;  or  lie  reads  a  newspaper  in  which 
lias  been  brought  to  him  whatever  lias  happened 
since  yesterday  in  any  part  of  the  civilized  world. 
All  this  is  the  result  of  the  love  of  accumula- 
tion planted  by  the  Creator  in  the  human  soul, 
and  the  large  accumulations  of  capital  in  all  Chris- 
tian lands. 

Therefore,  when  labor  quarrels  with  capital,  or 
capital  neglects  the  interests  of  labor,  it  is  like  the 
hand  thinking  it  does  not  need  the  eye,  the  ear,  or 
the  brain.  Modern  society  is  mutually  dependent, 
part  on  part :  each  on  all,  and  all  on  each  ;  many 
members  and  one  body.  If  the  people  in  America 
and  Europe  have  escaped  the  pestilence  and  famine 
which  used  to  desolate  vast  regions,  and  which  now 
lay  waste  other  countries,  it  is  because  capital  is 
planted  side  by  side,  in  peaceful  union,  with  labor. 

Moreover,  in  this  condition,  to  which  capital  is 
essential,  the  accumulation  of  property  is  an  edu- 
cation to  the  community.  The  love  of  money  is 
often  the  root  of  evil,  but  it  is  also  a  motive  to 
prudence,  economy,  industry,  and  skill.  It  de- 
velops the  powers  of  observation,  thought,  care, 
patience,  perseverance,  exactitude.  The  work  done 
each  day  in  Boston,  under  the  mighty  stimulus  of 
this  motive,  gives  an  education  to  the  people  far 
greater  than  all  the  schools  and  colleges  can  supply 
in  the  same  time. 


EDUCATION  BY  MEANS   OE  MONEY.         209 

It  will  not  do,  then,  to  condemn  sweepingly  the 
love  of  money  or  the  desire  to  be  rich  ;  for  these  are 
among  the  most  powerful  motives  to  activity,  en- 
ergy, and  improvement.  To  make  money  is  a 
legitimate  object.  The  question  is,  How  is  it  to  bo 
made  I  What  methods  are  proper  ?  What  means 
are  wise  ? 

Id  making  money,  that  which  is  derived  from  pro- 
ductive industry  educates  the  worker  and  helps 
him;  that  which  is  derived  from  unproductive  in- 
dustry degrades  and  injures  him. 

Productive  industry  is  that  which  adds  to  the 
real  wealth  of  the  community  ;  unproductive  indus- 
try is  that  which  adds  no  value  to  anything. 

The  wealth  of  a  community  consists,  not  merely 
in  outward  possessions,  but  in  all  which  gives  value 
to  life.  Good  pictures,  fine  poems,  good  lyceum  lec- 
tures, scientific  discoveries,  health,  safety,  good  man- 
ners, good  morals,  good  behavior,  make  life  more 
valuable.  Consequently,  we  may  place  among  pro- 
ductive laborers  the  poet,  the  painter,  the  judges 
and  lawyers,  the  physician,  the  orators,  the  profes- 
sors, the  clergyman.  These  are  all  working-men, 
adding  as  much  to  the  wealth  of  society  as  the 
farmer,  the  manufacturer,  or  the  merchant. 

But  if  a  man  spends  his  labor  in  doing  what  adds 
no  value  to  life,  or  diminishes  its  value,  he  is  unpro- 
ductive. The  gambler,  who  merely  tries  to  get 
another  man's  money;  the  man  who  adulterates 
fond,  or  makes  poor  articles  which  seem  like  good 


27<l  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

ones ;  the  quack  doctor  who  persuades  people  to 
take  medicines  -which  do  them  no  good ;  those  who 
manufacture  and  sell  poisonous  liquors  to  destroy 
the  peace  of  families  and  the  health  of  the  com- 
munity;  those  who  write  books  which  corrupt  the 
mind  and  heart,  —  are  plainly  unproductive  laborers. 
But  I  also  call  the  man  an  unproductive  laborer 
who,  as  a  lawyer  or  politician,  tries  to  make  the 
worse  appear  the  better  reason  ;  who  seeks  to  gain 
wealth,  reputation,  fame,  by  any  means,  right  or 
wrong.  I  call  the  man  in  trade  an  unproductive 
laborer  who  seeks  to  grow  rich  suddenly  by  specu- 
lation ;  instead  of  by  faithful,  legitimate  business.  I 
call  the  preacher  an  unproductive  laborer  who,  in- 
stead of  helping  men  to  lead  good  lives,  teaches 
them  only  outside  forms,  sectarian  self-satisfaction, 
narrow  dogmas,  or  sensational  emotions.  Such 
men.  if  they  sincerely  believe  they  are  doing  right, 
may  be  saved  themselves,  so  as  by  fire ;  but  the 
wood,  hay,  and  stubble  which  they  have  industri- 
ously put  together  will  lie  burned. 

Doing  such  work  may  make  a  man  cunning 
and  adroit,  but  will  not  make  him  wise.  Trying 
to  dodge  the  laws  of  the  universe  will  certainly  re- 
sult in  failure.  Those  who  work  in  accordance  with 
truth  and  justice  grow  nobler  and  stronger  even- 
day;  those  who  seek  to  thrive  merely  by  falsehood 
and  cunning,  taper  down  at  last  to  nothing. 

Smartness  may  endure  for  a  night;  but  truth 
cometh  in  the  morning. 


EDUCATION  BY  MEANS   OF  MONEY.         271 

There  is  an  education,  also,  in  using  money,  as 
well  as  in  making  it.  To  select,  among  the  different 
articles  which  one  wishes,  that  which  on  the  whole 
is  the  best;  to  choose  what  to  have  and  what  to  re- 
nounce,—  teach  prudence,  economy,  and  broad  views 
of  life.  Therefore  it  is  well  to  give  children  and 
young  people  an  allowance,  that  they  may  learn  by 
experience  how  to  make  the  best  use  of  their 
money.  Every  man  and  woman  needs  a  certain 
uncontrolled  use  of  money,  else  they  can  never 
learn  how  to  use  it.  1  have  known  men  who  would 
give  their  wives  and  children  whatever  was  wanted 
to  buy  any  particular  thing,  but  never  trusted  them 
to  exercise  their  own  discretion  by  having  a  regular 
sum  to  dispense.  It  was  a  mistake,  a  great  mistake. 
For  I  have  noticed  that  when  these  children  grew 
up,  and  came  at  last  into  possession  of  their  prop- 
erty, they  became  easy  victims  to  adroit  and  un- 
scrupulous knaves.  Besides,  it  is  so  painful  for  a 
woman  or  a  young  person  to  have  to  ask  always  for 
the  money  they  want,  that  it  leads  to  subterfuges. 
Every  one  should  have  for  educational  purposes  the 
uncontrolled  use  of  a  certain  amount  of  money,  un- 
less they  have  shown  themselves  to  be  unfit  for  this 
privilege.  The  only  way  in  which  we  can  learn  the 
use  of  money  is  by  having  it  to  use. 

But  the  use  of  money  may  teach  us  higher  things 
than  prudence,  economy,  and  judgment.  We  may 
also  be  educated  in  this  way  to  generosity  and  be- 
nevolence. 


272  SELF-CULTURE. 

Benevolence  and  generosity  are  not  impulses,  but 
habits;  that  is,  by  practice,  the  impulse  maybe- 
come  a  habit.  Impulsive  benevolence  may  do  more 
harm  than  good.  To  give  is  an  art  requiring  study 
and  practice.  God  loves  cheerful  givers,  but  he  also 
loves  judicious  givers, — givers  who  are  willing  to 
give  time  and  thought  as  well  as  money.  Giving 
money  may  be  like  pouring  water  on  the  sand,  or 
like  planting  a  seed  in  good  ground.  You  may  help 
a  man  so  as  to  teach  him  to  lean  on  you,  so  as  to 
take  away  his  self-reliance  and  self-respect ;  or  you 
may  help  him  so  as  to  enable  him  to  help  himself, 
and  to  go  forward  in  a  career  of  activity  and  useful- 
ness. 

The  fundamental  principle  which  lies  behind  all 
these  questions  is  laid  down  in  the  parable  of  the 
Talents  and  of  the  Pounds.  Every  man  is  a  steward, 
bound  to  use  all  his  powers  and  faculties,  including 
his  wealth,  according  to  the  will  of  God.  We  are 
to  give  an  account  to  God  for  all  we  have,  all  we  do, 
all  we  are.  We  shall  hear  the  words,  "Give  an  ac- 
count of  thy  stewardship,  for  thou  shalt  no  longer 
be  steward."'  Not,  perhaps,  to  any  visible  judge,  or 
before  any  outward  tribunal;  but.  sooner  or  later, 
we  shall  see  where  we  have  wasted  our  time,  squan- 
dered our  faculties,  or  made  pitiful  returns  for  the 
vast  bounty  of  the  Almighty. 

The  principle  taught  in  the  parable  of  the  Pounds 
and  of  the  Talents  applies  to  every  possession, 
faculty,  influence,  opportunity,  knowledge,  that  we 


EDUCATION  /»')'  MEANS   OF  MOXhY.        2tO 

have.  We  are  answerable  to  God  for  them  all; 
we  are  to  be  judged  for  the  use  we  make  of  them  ;  we 
are  to  he  held  to  a  strict  accountability  for  each,  and 
are  to  receive  an  exact  retribution  for  the  use  or  the 
neglect  of  them  all.  Now,  money  is  one  of  these 
talents  for  the  use  of  which  we  are  to  account.  If 
for  every  idle  word  which  men  shall  speak  they 
must  give  an  account  in  the  day  of  judgment,  so 
for  every  idle  dollar  they  may  spend  they  must 
also  give  an  account.  If  one  who  is  made  trustee 
of  the  property  of  the  widow  and  orphan  must  take 
good  care  of  it,  so  that  the  best  use  shall  be  made 
of  it,  he  must  take  the  same  care  of  what  he  calls 
his  own. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  this  idea  of  stewardship, 
in  regard  to  our  property,  is  as  yet  very  little  re- 
ceived, and  that  if  it  were  received,  it  would  change 
the  whole  aspect  of  society.  It  would  check  the 
inordinate  desire  for  accumulation  ;  for  if  we  under- 
stood that  we  were  not  accumulating  for  ourselves, 
but  only  taking  a  new  responsibility,  a  new  care,  a 
new  duty,  we  should  hesitate.  It  is  not  difficult  to 
see  how  a  small  income  shall  be  spent,  hut  not  so 
easy  to  satisfy  one's  conscience  in  spending  a  large 
one.  Cecil  says  that  he  once  heard  that  a  worthy 
young  man  of  his  acquaintance  had  refused  an  op- 
portunity of  engaging  in  a  business  which  would 
very  much  increase  his  income.  He  remonstrated 
with  him  about  it;  but  the  young  man  replied,  "  I 
have  often  heard   you  say  that  with  the  increase  of 

is 


274  SELF-CULTURE. 

property  our  responsibility  increases,  and  I  do  not 
like  to  take  on  myself  this  additional  trust."  Most 
men  feel  the  responsibility  for  their  wealth  when  it 
comes.  Before  they  have  it,  they  imagine  that  if 
they  are  rich  they  can  do  as  they  please  with  their 
means  ;  but  when  it  arrives,  they  find  themselves 
held  by  numerous  obligations  which  they  never 
foresaw.  They  cannot  do  as  they  will,  even  with 
their  own. 

Let  us  admit  once  for  all  that  we  are  stewards 
and  not  owners  of  property;  that  it  does  not  belong 
to  us,  but  to  God  ;  that  we  have  no  right  to  spend  a 
dollar  without  consideration,  —  and  a  large  part  of 
writing  and  preaching  against  the  love  of  money 
might  be  dispensed  with.  "We  do  not  wish  to  have 
the  care  of  money  winch  is  not  ours.  We  do  not 
envy  the  treasurer  or  cashier,  though  millions  pass 
through  his  hands,  as  we  envy  the  millionaire.  In- 
ordinate love  of  money  would  be  put  an  end  to  by 
this  principle.  Good  men  would  still  desire  wealth, 
but  it  would  be  for  the  sake  of  usefulness,  and  the 
desire  would  be  moderate  and  reasonable. 

As  with  the  accumulation,  so  with  the  distribution 
of  wealth.  Accept  the  doctrine  of  stewardship,  and 
half  the  difficulty  is  removed.  What  would  God 
have  me  do  ;  is  a  question  which  would  throw  great 
light  on  many  points.  Here,  for  example,  is  a 
Christian  church,  containing  one  hundred  families. 
the  incomes  of  which,  supposing  it  to  be  a  wealthy 
church,  may  average;  live  thousand  dollars  a  year,  or 


EDUCATION  BY  MEANS  OE  MONEY.        L;7o 

more.  To  be  within  the  limit,  we  will  cull  it  five 
thousand  dollars.  Let  all  these  families  accept  the 
doctrine  of  stewardship.  Here  is  half  a  million 
dollars  a  year,  for  the  use  of  winch  they  are  to 
account  to  God.  Suppose  they  meet  together  to 
consider  their  duties  in  relation  to  it.  Mr.  A.  rises 
and  says,  "  I  think  that,  as  God's  stewards,  we  ought 
to  spend  our  incomes  generously,  on  ourselves  and 
our  families.  We  ought  to  live  well,  and  in  as  good 
style  as  our  neighbors.  We  should  make  a  good 
appearance.  We  should  have  as  good  furniture, 
clothing,  equipages,  as  those  with  whom  we  asso- 
ciate, and  give  as  good  entertainments  as  they  do. 
It'  we  happen  to  have  anything  left,  we  ought  to 
devote  it  to  religious  and  benevolent  objects.  My 
maxim  is,  that  he  who  does  not  provide  for  his  own 
family  has  denied  the  faith,  and  is  worse  than  an 
infidel." 

If  Mr.  A.  succeeds  in  convincing  the  rest  that 
this  is  their  duty  as  stewards,  the  result  would  be 
this:  On  an  average,  they  might  give,  out  of  an 
income  of  five  thousand  dollars,  fifty  dollars  or  a 
hundred  dollars  a  year  in  charity.  That  is,  out  of 
an  aggregate  income  of  half  a  million,  four  hundred 
and  ninety  thousand  might  be  spent  on  their  own 
comforts  and  luxuries,  and  some  ten  thousand  dollars 
a  year  for  benevolent  and  religious  objects.  And  I 
suppose  that  this  is  just  about  the  proportion  in 
many  of  our  churches. 

This  is  probably  the  actual  distribution,  but  1  do 


276  SELF-CULTURE. 

not  think  that  it  would  be  easy  to  satisfy  ourselves, 
on  deliberate  examination,  that  it  was  the  right  pro- 
portion. 

Probably  other  speakers  might  think  differently. 
Mr.  I).,  for  example,  might  think  it  a  Christian  duty 
to  save  a  part  of  one's  income.  He  would  speak 
thus  :  "  I  think  Mr.  A.'s  view  wrong.  It  tends  to 
extravagance.  If  we  spend  all  our  income,  we  shall 
be  likely  to  spend  more.  If  we  try  to  dress  as  well 
as  our  neighbors,  to  have  as  good  furniture  and 
houses,  to  give  as  good  entertainments,  some  of  us 
will  be  pretty  sure  to  run  in  debt.  Besides,  are  we 
any  happier  for  living  so  ?  Does  the  fine  furniture 
give  us  pleasure  enough  to  make  up  for  the  uneasy 
feeling  that  we  are  living  beyond  our  means,  or  in 
danger  of  doing  so.  The  only  safe  way  is  to  lay  up 
one-half  or  one-quarter  of  our  income  every  year. 
Times  may  change.  It  is  best  to  be  on  the  safe  side. 
Economy  is  a  good  old-fashioned  Xew  England 
virtue,  winch  ought  to  be  maintained." 

As  against  Mr.  A.,  there  is  good  sense  in  this 
view.  And  I  have  no  doubt  that  very  many  act 
upon  it,  and  will  continue  to  do  so. 

But  what  would  be  the  result  if  it  was  adopted 
as  a  principle  of  action  by  our  religious  society  ( 
The  result  would  be,  as  regards  charity,  the  same  as 
before,  or  nearly  the  same. 

But  let  us  listen  to  a  third  speaker,  Mr.  C.  :  "  It 
is  no  doubt  right  that  we  should  provide  suitably 
for  our  families.     Let  them  have  what  is  comfortable 


EDUCATION  BY  MEANS   OE  MONEY.        277 

and  what  is  tasteful.  Hut  these  are  not  the  expen- 
sive tilings.  Expense  comes  from  the  love  of  display 
and  from  unnecessary  luxuries.  Can  we  not  live 
comfortably  on  half  our  income,  or  three-fourths  ? 
What  shall  we  do  with  the  rest?  Shall  we  lay  it 
up,  as  our  friend  B.  suggests  ?  But  to  what  end  ? 
To  make  ourselves  safe  against  the  future  '.  But  is 
there  no  Clod  in  the  future  to  take  care  of  us  as  he 
lias  taken  care  of  us  in  the  past  ?  As  stewards,  we 
can  trust  our  Master  to  see  to  our  wants  and  those 
of  our  families,  if  we  make  a  right  use  of  what  we 
hold  in  trust  for  him  and  his  children.  Let  us, 
then,  determine  to  use  for  others  a  certain  definite 
portion  of  our  incomes  every  year, —  half  of  our 
income,' if  it  is  large;  or  a  quarter,  or  a  tenth.  But 
let  us  not  leave  it  to  accident.  Let  each  man 
decide  how  much  to  apply  every  year  to  benevolent 
purposes.  As  we  grow  richer,  let  the  proportion 
increase.  If  the  man  who  has  only  one  thousand 
dollars  a  year  gives  fifty  to  charity,  or  one-twentieth, 
then  let  the  man  who  has  ten  thousand  give  a  fifth, 
and  the  man  who  has  twenty  thousand  give  a  half, 
or  a  third,  or  a  fourth.  Then  we  shall  have  the 
pleasure  of  taking  the  initiative  in  giving;  in  not 
waiting  till  we  are  asked,  but  looking  around  for 
objects  of  benevolence.  Then,  if  we  have  done  any 
good  in  the  world,  made  any  one's  path  easier. 
lightened  any  heavy  burden,  sheltered  the  defence- 
less, or  comforted  the  forlorn,  we  shall  see  and 
understand  this   bv  the   inward  satisfaction   which 


2  7  8  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

all  right-doing  brings  with  it.  Wise,  conscien- 
tious, generous  use  of  our  means  is  repaid  here 
and  hereafter.  'Give,  and  it  shall  be  given  you; 
full  measure,  pressed  down  and  running  over  it  shall 
he  returned  again.'  " 

Is  not  this  last  the  true  principle  for  the  use  of 
our  means  ? 

The  principle  is  the  important  thing ;  where  this 
is,  the  right  method  will  follow.  Only  we  must 
remember  that  giving  is  both  an  act  and  a  habit ; 
an  accomplishment  which  is  to  be  learned,  and  a 
custom  to  be  practised.  The  mistake  made  by 
many  persons  is  to  suppose  that  they  can  devote  all 
their  thought  and  energy  for  years  to  accumulation, 
and  afterward  learn  how  to  use  aright  what  has 
been  thus  gathered.  It  takes  as  much  time  and 
thought  to  learn  how  to  spend  money  as  to  learn 
how  to  make  money.  So  that,  sometimes,  a  man 
who  has  shown  great  talent  and  energy  in  collecting 
a  fortune,  stands  helpless  before  it,  not  knowing 
what  to  do  with  it  after  it  is  acquired;  whereas, 
if  he  had  begun  in  youth  to  practise  the  right  way 
of  using  property  as  well  as  acquiring  it,  he  would 
have  the  double  satisfaction  of  receiving  and  giving. 
For  certainly  there  is  no  way  in  which  wealth  can 
bring  so  much  satisfaction  to  its  possessor  as  when 
it  is  wisely  and  generously  applied  to  all  good 
objects.  When  Air.  Peabody,  of  London,  had  the 
happy  thought  of  devoting  a  part  of  his  large  wealth 
during  his  lifetime  to  public  objects,  he  showed  no 


EDUCATION  BY  MEANS   OF  MONEY.        27'J 

great  generosity,  for  it  did  not  cost  him  a  single 
.sacrifice.  The  poor  woman  in  the  Gospel  who  gave 
the  two  mites,  which  was  her  whole  income,  gave 
more  than  his  two  millions.  But  he  showed  great 
good  sense;  for  this  expenditure  brought  him  a 
return  of  universal  respect  and  good-will.  Wherever 
he  went,  he  was  the  conspicuous  object  of  admira- 
tion and  honor.  He  gave,  and  it  was  given  him  ; 
full  measure,  pressed  down  and  running  over. 

In  Europe,  it  is  often  regarded  as  a  religious 
duty  to  give  to  the  beggars  in  the  streets.  Conse- 
quently, beggars  increase  and  abound.  We  are 
learning  better  methods  here.  We  now  try  to  pre- 
vent pauperism,  and  to  anticipate  want.  Instead 
of  giving  money  in  the  street,  we  establish  societies 
which  visit  those  who  are  in  want  at  their  own 
houses  :  which  provide  work  for  those  out  of  work  ; 
which  provide  hospitals  for  the  sick,  homes  for  the 
aged  ;  industrial  schools  for  young  men  and  women  ; 
model  lodging-houses,  where  comfort  and  health 
can  be  secured  at  reasonable  rates;  homes  where 
inebriates  can  be  saved  ;  reform  schools,  farm  schools, 
help  for  discharged  prisoners,  bright  and  cheerful 
holly-tree  inns  instead  of  drinking  saloons;  free 
music,  free  libraries,  free  baths  in  summer.  This  is 
all  a  movement  in  the  right  direction,  for  it  is  the 
practical  form  of  the  doctrine  of  the  atonement,  the 
reconciliation  of  love  and  truth  ;  it  is  thought  put 
into  our  love;  it  is  mercy  and  truth  met  together; 
it  is  the  happy  conjunction  of  good  nature  and  good 
sense. 


280  SELF-CUL  Ti  'RE. 

But,  after  all,  we  are  only  at  the  beginning  of 
this  application  of  Christianity  to  life.  Our  society 
is  still  in  a  very  disorganized  state.  The  vast  destruc- 
tion of  property  and  disorganization  of  labor  caused 
by  the  war,  followed  by  the  rage  for  speculation  which 
always  accompanies  war,  resulted  in  a  great  de- 
pression of  business  and  want  of  confidence  which 
held  back  capital  from  engaging  in  new  enter- 
prises.1 And  so  we  have,  not  wide-spread  famine, 
as  in  China  ;  not  starvation  in  the  street,  not  exten- 
sive pestilence,  not  organized  bands  of  robbers,  —  for 
we  have  risen  above  the  social  level  where  such 
evils  are  sure  to  appear.  But  some  serious  symp- 
toms show  themselves  which  demand  a  union  of  all 
good  and  wise  men  to  meet  the  dangers  of  the  hour. 
The  "  sturdy  beggars  "  who  infested  England  two  or 
three  centuries  ago  reappear  in  our  midst  under  the 
name  of  '''tramps."  We  do  not  hang  them,  fifty  at 
a  time,  as  was  done  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  Dema- 
gogues declaim  against  property,  and  teach  people 
that  those  who  lend  them  money  are  enemies  and 
tyrants  ;  to  be  resisted,  even  to  the  repudiation  of 
their  debts.  Wild  theories  of  currency  inflation,  of 
communism,  of  a  war  of  labor  against  capital,  show 
a  blind  fermentation  in  the  public  mind  which 
demands  the  wisest,  kindest,  and  firmest  treatment. 

These  art!  the  evils  of  a  transition  state;  of  a 
period    when    we    have    left    the    Garden   of    Eden 

1  This  leeture  was  delivered  in  1878,  during  the  great  business 
depression,  which  hud  not  then  ceased. 


EDUCATION  BY  MEANS   OE  MONEY.        28  L 

behind  us,  and  have  not  yet  readied  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven.  Such  evils  are  the  divinely  appointed 
whips  and  spurs  to  make  us  go  forward  to  something 
better,  and  not  rest  indolently  contented,  in  the 
negative  comforts  and  half-virtues  of  quiet  times. 
Let  us  believe  in  providence  as  regards  the  future, 
and  do  our  work  now,  as  those  who  are  to  give  an 
account  for  every  opportunity,  talent,  and  privilege. 
In  this  country  we  are  all  members  of  each  other; 
no  man  can  live  to  himself  or  die  to  himself.  If 
one  sutlers,  all  suffer.  We  f„re  all,  therefore,  obliged 
to  take  an  interest  in  the  condition  of  those  around 
us.  for  our  own  sakes,  and  for  the  sake  of  our 
children,  if  not  for  the  sake  of  God  and  humanity, 
we  must  do  our  part  in  these  hours  of  social  struggle, 
lend  our  arm  to  sustain  the  weak  and  raise  the 
fallen,  and  our  sufficient  reward  will  be  to  find  that 
always  and  everywhere  "  it  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive." 


XIII. 

THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  TEMPER 


XIII. 
THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  TEMPER. 


I  THOUGHT,  one  day,  that  I  should  like  to  write 
a  sermon  on  Temper.  But,  on  looking  into 
the  Concordance,  I  discovered  that  the  word  was 
not  to  be  found  in  the  Bible,  —  not  in  the  form  of 
the  noun.  "  Temper,"  the  noun,  is  not  there  ;  but 
the  verb  "to  temper"  is.  Then  I  turned  to  the 
oldest  English  Dictionary  I  have,  Bailey's,  a  little 
over  one  hundred  years  old,  and  I  found  the  noun 
defined  thus:  Temper  (from  lemperies,  Latin).  "Hu- 
mor, natural  disposition,  constitution;"  also,  "mod- 
eration." "Temperament"  is  defined  as  "  a  proper 
and  proportional  mixture  of  the  elements,  but  mor** 
especially  the  humors  of  the  human  body  ;  the  nat-^ 
ural  habitude  and  constitution  of  the  animal  hu- 
mors." Pushing  my  researches  further,  I  looked 
into  a  Latin  Dictionary  printed  in  1509,  a  curious 
old  Polyglot  in  eight  languages  (which  once  be- 
longed to  Mather  Byles,  and  has  his  name  on  the 
fly-leaf),  and  there  I  found  the  Latin  wool  defined 
to  mean  "the  temper  of  the  air,  the  healthful  mix- 


286  SELF-CULTURE. 

ture  of  heat  and  cold,  of  dry  and  moist,  in  the 
atmosphere." 

Once,  years  ago,  travelling  on  a  Mississippi 
steamer,  I  took  up  a  tract,  issued  by  the  American 
Tract  Society,  which  was  lying  on  the  table,  and 
read  the  title.  It  surprised  and  attracted  me,  for  it 
was  this;  "Temper  is  Everything."  The  contents 
corresponded  to  the  title.  It  declared  the  essence 
of  Christianity  to  be,  not  belief,  nor  emotion,  nor 
ceremonies,  nor  an  outward  routine  of  decent  con- 
duct, but  good  temper.  The  writer  of  the  tract, 
while  writing  it,  seemed  to  have  forgotten  all  about 
his  Orthodoxy,  and  the  publishers  to  have  forgotten 
all  about  their  sectarianism.  It  was  a  simple  Chris- 
tian tract,  such  as  Fenelon  or  Channing  might  have 
written,  and  the  Apostle  Paul  approved. 

Temper  is  everything.  But  what  is  good  temper, 
and  how  is  it  to  be  obtained  and  cherished  ? 

Good  nature,  good  temper,  and  good  humor  are 
three  qualities  often  confounded,  but  which  it  is  de- 
sirable to  distinguish.  Good  nature  is,  as  the  word 
implies,  something  born  in  us;  no  irritability  in 
the  blood,  but,  instead,  a  sort  of  natural  sunshine,  a 
born  contentedness,  a  sympathetic  feeling  toward 
all  about  us.  Good  humor  conies  from  pleasant 
surroundings,  a  happy  environment,  agreeable  cir- 
cumstances. A  good-humored  man  is  only  good- 
humored  while  everything  goes  right;  when  tilings 
go  wrong,  his  good  humor  departs,  and  bad  humor 
arrives.      Hut  good  temper  results  from  culture  and 


THE   EDfCA  T/O.Y   OF    THE    TEMPER.         287 

development  of  the  higher  faculties.  It  comes  from 
self-control,  observation,  experience,  good  sense, 
knowledge  of  one's  self  and  of  others.  It  is,  in  fact, 
the  harmony  of  soul  belonging  to  a  well-balanced 
character.  It  is  the  outward  sign  of  peace  within. 
While  a  man  is  at  war  with  himself  and  with  God  ; 
while  he  is  rebelling  against  his  circumstances  and 
against  divine  providence  ;  while  his  lower  nature 
rules  the  higher,  or  is  at  war  with  it,  so  as  to  pro- 
duce a  condition  of  unstable  equilibrium,  —  he  cannot 
be  good-tempered.  War  with  himself,  inward  unrest, 
will  show  itself  in  outward  discontent.  But  when 
one  is  inwardly  at  peace  ;  when  he  has  conquered 
the  evil  within  him,  and  subdued  his  passions  and 
appetites  till  they  obey  the  voice  of  reason  ;  when 
he  has  formed  a  habit  of  doing  right  always  and 
everywhere ;  when  selfishness  lias  given  way  to 
generosity,  and  perfect  love  has  cast  out  fear,  —  then 
all  this  shows  itself  in  that  equipoise  of  soul  which 
we  call  good  temper  or  equanimity. 

While,  therefore,  good  nature  depends  on  the 
physical  organization,  and  cannot  be  cultivated  by 
effort ;  while  good  humor  depends  on  circumstances, 
and  is  no  part  of  the  man  himself, — good  temper  is 
something  which  we  can  all  acquire,  if  we  choose. 
We  cannot  make  ourselves  good-natured  or  good- 
humored;  but  we  can  make  ourselves  good-tem- 
pered. Good  temper,  therefore,  belongs  properly  to 
the  doctrine  of  self-culture. 

This   word   '•temper"  seems   at  first  to  have  in- 


288  SELF-CULTURE. 

tended  the  healthful  blending  of  opposite  characters 
in  the  atmosphere;  then,  the  harmonious  balance 
of  opposite  qualities  in  the  human  body;  lastly,  the 
balance  of  various  qualities  and  tendencies  in  the 
human  mind  and  heart. 

The  temper,  therefore,  of  the  soul  is  something 
more  than  a  mood.  Good  temper,  as  we  have  seen, 
is  different  from  good  nature.  Good  nature  results 
from  a  healthy  organization,  a  sunny  constitution,  a 
cheerful,  kindly,  sympathizing  disposition,  which 
causes  one  to  look  at  the  good  side  of  the  world,  the 
bright  side  of  characters;  to  see  good,  and  not  evil, 
everywhere ;  and  so  to  feel  and  speak  and  act  in  a 
kindly  way  on  most  occasions.  It  is  a  great  gift 
and  one  to  be  thankful  lor. 

God  sends,  here  and  there,  these  good  natures 
into  the  world  to  make  sunshine  for  us.  They  are 
uncritical,  they  do  not  find  fault,  they  disturb  no 
one's  conscience,  and  it  is  rest  and  quiet  to  be  with 
them.  But  they  are  made  so;  those  who  are  dif- 
ferent cannot  make  themselves  good-natured.  Those 
of  us  who  are  moody  sometimes,  and  irritable  some- 
times, and  indignant  often,  and  sharp  and  severe  in 
our  censures  of  evil  ;  who  discriminate,  liking  some 
people  and  disliking  other  people;  we,  whom  no- 
body ever  calls  good-natured,  cannot  make  ourselves 
so;  nor,  indeed,  is  it  desirable  that  we  should.  We 
are  not  sunshine;  but,  perhaps,  shade  is  necessary 
as  well  as  sunshine  in  this  world.  Some  people  are 
intended  for  other  purposes  ;  are   made  to  lie  minis- 


THE   EDUCATION  OE   THE    TEMPER.         289 

ters  of  truth,  to  be  soldiers  of  the  right,  actively  use- 
ful, or  prophets  crying  in  the  wilderness.  Every 
man  has  his  proper  gift  from  the  Lord,  some  after 
this  fashion  and  others  after  that ;  and  while  the 
proper  gift  of  some  persons  is  to  he  good-natured, 
others  are  not  made  for  that,  hut  for  something 
different. 

But  though  we  cannot  all  have  good  nature,  we 
can  all  have  good  temper  ;  and  that  is  something 
higher.  It  is  the  blended  and  balanced  action  of  all 
the  faculties  and  powers.  The  atmosphere  is  well- 
tempered  when  it  is  neither  too  hot  nor  too  cold, 
neither  too  dry  nor  too  moist ;  having  neither  too 
much  electricity  nor  too  little;  when  the  warm  cur- 
rents temper  the  cold,  and  the  dry  currents  absorb 
the  moisture.  In  such  days  we  see  the  feathery 
white  clouds  lying  against  the  deep  blue  sky,  but 
not  darkening  the  sun  nor  chilling  the  air.  Ke- 
f resiling  breezes  play  around  the  face,  but  do  not 
chill  the  heated  body;  they  only  cool  it.  In  such 
days  it  is  a  luxury  to  live.  We  can  do  anything 
well.  All  our  faculties  are  active.  The  reason  is 
that  the  atmosphere  is  good-tempered. 

The  body  is  in  a  good  state  when  it  is  well-tem- 
pered;  when  the  nervous  system  and  the  blood  and 
the  nutritive  system  all  work  in  their  due  harmony 
and  proportion;  when  these  three  great  constituents 
i if  the  body  are  all  well  balanced  against  each  oilier. 
The  body  is  not  well-tempered  in  a  student  who 
takes  no  exercise,  and  where  evervthin";  <ioes  to  feed 
19 


290  SELF-CULTURE. 

the  brain;  nor  in  a  pugilist  in  training,  where  every- 
thing goes  to  feed  the  muscles;  nor  in  an  epicure, 
who  devotes  his  whole  attention  to  eating.  But, 
when  physical  and  muscular  exercise  alternate  with 
study,  when  all  the  organs  and  physical  powers  are 
in  happy  balance  and  proportion,  then  we  can  say 
that  the  body  is  well-tempered,  or  in  good  temper. 
But  body  and  soul  are  distempered  when  out  of 
tune,  unmodulated,  unbalanced. 

But  good  temper,  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word, 
belongs  to  the  soul.  It  is  a  sign  of  the  harmonious 
and  well-balanced  working  of  the  different  moral 
powers.  If  1  am  bad-tempered,  it  proves  something 
to  be  morbid  and  unbalanced  in  my  soul.  If  one's 
character  is  irritable  and  peevish,  and  not  merely 
moody,  this  is  a  symptom  of  irregular  action  of  the 
moral  nature. 

This  is  the  point  I  wish  to  urge.  Good  temper 
and  bad  temper  are  symptoms  of  good  and  bad 
moral  health.  Good  temper  is  not  a  thing  to  be 
aimed  at  directly:  it  is  a  result.  Bad  temper,  in 
like  manner,  is  a  result.  It  is  symptomatic  of 
some'  irregular,  abnormal  action  of  the  soul.  You 
cannot  cure  it  directly  by  an  effort  to  be  good-tem- 
pered. You  can,  no  doubt,  by  an  effort,  re] tress  its 
manifestations.  You  can  control  yourself,  so  as  not 
to  say  or  do  bad-tempered  things.  But  the  bad 
temper  itself  is  to  be  cured,  as  a  musician  cures  a 
discord  in  his  instrument,  by  tuning  all  the  strings. 
The  musical  discord  is  a  symptom  that  some,  strings 


THE   EDUCATION  OF   THE    TEMPER.        29] 

are  out  of  order.  Bud  temper  is  ;i  symptom  of  some 
moral  strings  being  "  jangled,  out  of  tunc,  and  harsh." 
First  of  all,  then,  you  must  tune  your  instrument. 

For  there  is  no  such  delicate  and  wonderful 
musical  instrument  as  the  soul  of  man.  The  great 
organs  of  the  world  are  only  types  of  it.  The  soul 
sits  within,  touching  all  its  own  secret  and  wonderful 
keys,  drawing  out  all  its  own  strange,  mysterious 
music.  The  soul  of  man  lias  a  thousand  powers 
balancing  each  other,  and  when  tempered  to  each 
other  they  make  the  sweetest  harmony.  But  when 
one  is  not  modulated  by  the  rest,  it  soon  grows 
sharp  and  harsh,  and  then  what  we  call  bad  temper, 
or  distemper,  is  apt  to  come  as  a  sign  of  this  unpro- 
portioued  activity. 

Tims,  for  example,  we  see  the  perceptive  powers, 
winch  are  devoted  to  facts,  balanced  by  the  retlective, 
which  are  devoted  to  laws.  The  man  who  lives 
only  in  outward  facts;  who  knows  only  forms, 
numbers,  dates,  outward  things,  —  grows  hard-tem- 
pered. Outward  facts,  by  themselves,  gradually 
harden  the  nature.  The  man  who  devotes  himself 
to  reflection  alone,  the  student  of  metaphysics, 
morals,  and  science,  who  spends  his  time  in  abstract 
reasoning,  grows  cold-tempered.  His  sympathies 
are  chilled  ;  he  is  taken  away  from  the  neighborhood 
of  men  into  the  thin  upper  air  of  meditation,  which 
is  lonely  and  cold.  Imagination,  taste,  and  the 
sense  of  beauty,  when  cultivated  alone,  do,  as  we 
know  well,  produce  irritability  of  temper.     Artists, 


292  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

poets,  and  musicians  are  apt  to  be  irritable.  Men 
of  business,  absorbed  in  their  object,  which  calk 
out  daring,  energy,  resolution,  and  force  acquire 
often  a  wilfulness  of  temper.  They  are  apt  to 
become  despotic  and  domineering.  It  is  not  safe  to 
allow  any  tendency  to  go  to  excess.  (rod  has 
balanced  every  faculty  by  some  other,  and  means 
they  shall  all  be  used.  He  also  gives  opportunity 
and  inducement  to  use  them  all.  He  has  given  us 
an  outward  world  to  exercise  our  senses, —  gorgeous, 
and  varied  with  a  boundless  variety.  Does  he  not 
desire,  then,  that  we  should  become  acquainted  with 
minerals  and  vegetables,  with  trees  and  animals,  with 
flowers  and  rocks,  with  sky  and  sea  ?  He  has  given 
us  an  inward  world  of  abstract  ideas,  teaching  us  to 
compare  and  deduce,  to  ascend  to  universal  laws, 
analyze  complex  phenomena,  and  so  enter  into  the 
mysterious  workshops  of  his  creation.  He  has 
given  us  fear  and  hope,  timidity  and  courage,  ima- 
gination and  reason,  sympathy  and  self-reliance, 
love  of  home  and  love  of  change,  desire  for  new 
things,  satisfaction  in  old  tilings,  reverence  for  the 
past,  interest  in  the  future  ;  conscience,  which  chains 
us  to  a  law  of  absolute  right ;  affection,  which 
attaches  itself  to  individual  persons ;  hope,  that 
reaches  forward:  memory,  that  reaches  backward; 
1  lie  combative  element,  which  loves  to  fight  against 
opposing  forces;  the  desire  for  peace,  which  seeks 
universal  harmony  and  brotherhood.  He  lias  given 
us  all  ;  and  good  temper  in  the  soul  is  the  sign  of 


THE   EDUCATION   OF    THE    TEMPER.        293 

their  harmonious  activity  ;  bad  temper,  of  their  one- 
sided and  immoderate  activities. 

But  what  shall  temper  them  ?  What  moderate 
them?  What  produce  this  divine  harmony?  Who 
shall  teach  us  how  to  sit  and  play  on  this  wonder- 
ful instrument,  so  as  to  draw  out  its  ineffable 
music  ? 

First,  we  may  say  that  God,  in  the  arrangements 
of  our  life,  helps  us  to  temper  our  souls. 

The  old  naturalists  supposed  four  temperaments 
in  the  body,  derived  from  its  four  fluids,  according 
to  the  four  qualities,  hot,  cold,  moist,  and  dry.  When 
there  was  an  excess  of  blood,  there  was  the  sanguine 
temperament ;  of  phlegm,  the  phlegmatic  ;  of  yellow 
bile,  the  choleric;  of  black  bile,  the  melancholy. 
Our  word  "melancholy"  means  literally  "  black  bile," 
for  so  do  the  wrecks  of  old  theories  float  down  the 
current  of  time  in  the  form  of  words.  This  theory 
of  temperaments  has  long  ago  been  wrecked  en 
some  rock-bound  shore  of  hard  experience.  But  it 
remains  essentially  true  that,  in  body  and  soul,  we 
are  differently  tempered,  and  envisage  life  according 
to  our  temper  of  body  or  mind.  Our  wisdom  is 
to  temper  our  own  special  tendencies,  and  moderate 
them. 

Observe  the  pains  taken  with  the  temperature  of 
the  globe.  See  how  earth  has  its  shores  cooled  and 
bathed  by  the  sea  and  air;  its  surface  so  graded 
that  the  rains  shall  neither  rest  on  it  too  long  nor  run 
off  from  it  too  speedily;  the  strata  are  so  tipped  that 


294  SELF-CULTURE. 

the  water  gushes  out,  here  and  there,  in  cool  springs  ; 
the  mountains  and  hills  are  so  arranged  that  the 
rivers  meander  to  and  fro  over  the  surface  of  each 
continent,  fertilizing  and  connecting  all  parts  ;  moun- 
tains rise  in  the  heated  tropics,  carrying  the  land 
up  into  cooler  regions,  catching  the  sea-breeze,  and 
compelling  it  to  deposit  its  burden  of  water  in  daily 
and  nightly  showers.  Great  masses  of  ice  at  the 
poles  set  in  motion  currents  in  the  ocean  and  atmos- 
phere, which  roll  toward  the  equator,  and  bring 
perpetual  reinforcements  of  cool  water  and  cool  air. 
Clouds  sail  to  and  fro,  —  the  great  ships  of  heaven, 
—  going  about  their  Master's  business,  carrying 
water  from  one  part  of  the  continent  to  the  other; 
carrying,  also,  a  freight  of  electric  tire  from  where  it 
is  in  excess  to  where  it  is  needed.  So  they  do  the 
work  of  a  mercantile  navy;  and  sometimes,  too, 
they  meet  in  battle,  like  ships  of  war,  and  we  have 
a  terrific  naval  engagement,  with  awful  discharges 
of  lightning  with  rolling  thunder,  yet  not  to  destroy 
life,  hut  to  save  it.  Such  pains  is  taken  to  keep 
the  earth  in  good  temper,  with  equal  balance  of  hot 
and  cold,  moist  and  dry.  So,  too,  when  the  aurora 
borealis  appears  in  the  heavens,  it  is  not  merely  to 
delight  us  with  its  beauty.  Use  always  lies  under 
the  beauty,  as  the  skeleton  beneath  the  outward 
human  form  Those  steady  discharges  of  auroral 
light  to  the  zenith  along  innumerable  conducting 
lines  come,  it  is  thought,  to  equalize  the  electric 
conditions  of  the  air.     As  the  engine  blows  off  its 


THE    EDUCATION  OF    THE    TEMPER.        295 

excess  of  steam,  so  the  earth  is  blowing  off  its  ex- 
cess of  electricity,  and   tempering   its   climate  for 

human  use. 

If  God  takes  such  pains  to  temper  the  climate  of 
the  earth  on  which  our  bodies  live,  does  he  not  also 
temper  the  climate  for  the  soul  ?  Let  us  trust  in 
his  providence  ;  let  us  believe  that  the  events  of 
life,  its  trials  and  disasters,  its  varied  experiences, 
come,  not  blindly  nor  by  accident,  but  are  sent  to 
give  the  right  temper  to  our  moral  and  spiritual  na- 
ture, to  tit  us  for  the  work  we  have  to  do  in  time 
and  eternity. 

The  word  "temper"  is  applied  to  the  manufacture 
of  steel.  To  temper  steel  exactly  is  the  difficult  point, 
and  even  the  cutlers  themselves  do  not  know  how 
they  do  it  ;  they  see  something  in  the  look  of  the 
steel  which  shows  them  that  it  is  of  the  right  tem- 
per. The  utmost  care,  the  most  delicate  and  con- 
stant attention,  is  necessary  in  that  ancient  and 
wonderful  process  by  which  iron  imbibes  carbon 
and  turns  to  steel.  The  smallest  crack  in  the  side 
of  the  furnace  vitiates  the  result.  Day  after  day 
the  terrible  lire  rages  in  the  heart  of  the  shut 
trough,  and  there  the  work  goes  on.  So  the  steel 
gets  its  proper  temper,  whether  it  is  to  be  a  razor, 
a  coach-spring,  or  a  tile. 

And  will  not  (bid  take  as  much  care  to  temper 
us  as  the  steel  manufacturer  in  Damascus  or  Shef- 
field takes  of  his  knives  and  sabres  '.  We,  also,  are 
often  put  into  a  raging  furnace,  and  there,  amid  the 


296  SELF-CULTURE. 

stern  experiences  of  life,  we  lie  in  the  fne  to  be  tem- 
pered, and  go  under  the  hammer  to  become  compact 
for  the  work  we  are  to  do  in  the  universe.  One  is 
to  be  made  into  a  delicate  instrument,  like  a  razor  ; 
another  into  a  hard  one,  like  a  file ;  and  each  needs 
to  be  brought  to  a  different  temper.  So,  too,  was 
our  nation  tempered  in  the  fire  and  furnace  of  war, 
and  since  then  in  the  financial  disasters  of  peace. 
We  have  gone  under  the  heavy  hammer  blows  of 
disaster  and  ruin.  We  needed  to  be  tempered. 
We  had  been  going  into  excesses  of  self-love,  into 
aberrations  of  egotism,  which  were  destroying  our 
national  life.  Wre  had  been  intemperate  in  our 
self-love.  "We  had  forgotten  to  worship  God  with 
reverence,  to  love  man  with  tenderness.  WTe  needed 
to  be  tempered  again,  and  our  great  war  and  the 
subsequent  evils  may  help  us  into  a  better  temper. 

As  we  distinguished  good  temper  from  good  na- 
ture, so  we  must  distinguish  ill  nature  and  ill  humor 
from  bad  temper.  A  person  may  be,  by  nature, 
irritable,  and  unable  always  to  repress  the  outbreak 
of  this  irritability  ;  but  may  wish  to  do  so,  try  to  do 
so,  often  succeed  in  doing  so,  and  grieve  when  un- 
able to  do  so.  And  a  person  out  of  humor  because 
things  have  gone  wrong  may  become  good-humored 
again  when  tilings  go  right.  But  a  bad-tempered 
man  is  apt  to  put  the  blame  on  others,  not  on  him- 
self. He  thinks  himself  the  victim,  others  the  ag- 
gressors. He  therefore  never  tries  to  correct  himself, 
does  not  wish  to,  does  not  think  he  ought  to  do  it 


THE  EDUCATION  OF   THE    TEMPER.         297 

He  must  be  converted,  wholly  changed,  born  again, 
before  he  can  be  cured. 

Fortunately,  however,  most  of  us  are  only  bad- 
tempered  to  a  certain  extent,  and  may  be  gradually 
educated  into  something  better. 

The  two  roots  of  bad  temper,  out  of  which  it 
grows,  are  want  of  conscience  and  want  of  love. 
When  a  man  is  not  living,  and  does  not  mean  to 
live,  according  to  his  own  convictions  of  right,  he  is 
at  war  with  himself.  He  has  no  inward  peace.  All 
is  discord  within.  There  is  no  proper  balance  among 
his  powers,  nor  can  there  be  till  the  law  of  right  is 
supreme. 

A  bad-tempered  person  is  always  suspecting  griev- 
ances,—  imagining  himself  ill-used,  discontented  with 
his  position,  dissatisfied  with  his  circumstances.  He 
is  in  a  condition  of  perpetual  discontent  and  warfare. 
All  contact  irritates  him,  and  he  makes  himself  and 
others  miserable.  It  is  so  disagreeable  to  be  with 
him,  that  men  avoid  him,  and  leave  him  alone  with 
his  dissatisfactions.  It  is  so  unpleasant  to  oppose 
him,  that,  rather  than  contradict  him,  they  remain 
silent ;  and  so  he  loses  the  benefit  which  comes  to 
us  from  a  healthy  resistance.  When  he  speaks, 
people  give  way,  or  run  away.  He  never  blames 
himself,  always  some  one  else,  for  anything  wrong; 
so  he  loses  the  peace  born  of  confession  and  repent- 
ance. However  disagreeable  he  is  to  others,  he  is 
much  more  so  to  himself,  for  a  thoroughly  bad- 
tempered  man  is  a  thoroughly  miserable  man.     He 


298  SELF-CULTURE. 

carries  the  fires  of  hell  in  his  own  soul,  and  surely 
we  should  rather  be  sorry  for  him  than  he  angry 
with  him.  Who  can  help  pitying  such  a  man  as 
Dean  Swift,  pursued  and  tormented  forever  by  the 
furies  of  blind  rage,  hate,  and  discontent,  the  great- 
est genius  and  the  most  miserable  man  of  his  day  \ 
Who  can  help  pitying  Byron,  whose  magnificent 
genius  only  illustrated  the  selfish  bitterness  of  his 
career  ?  Such  a  man,  being  at  war  with  himself,  is 
out  of  temper  with  every  one  else.  And  the  other 
root  of  bad  temper  is  selfishness.  When  a  man 
makes  himself  the  only  end  ;  lives  for  selfish  pleas- 
ure, selfish  gain,  selfish  power,  fame,  —  then  every 
other  man  is  his  rival,  and  every  success  but  his 
own  irritates  him.  He  becomes  full  of  envy,  hatred, 
malice,  and  all  uncharitableness.  If  an  artist,  or 
writer,  or  preacher,  or  politician,  he  is  jealous  of  the 
success  of  others.  Instead  of  being  inspired  with  a 
generous  emulation  by  the  sight  of  another's  excel- 
lence, he  is  filled  with  mean  envy.  Like  Malvolio 
in  the  play,  he  is  sick  of  self-love,  and  feels  every 
resistance  or  misfortune  as  if  it  were  a  cannon- 
bullet,  while  a  generous  and  guiltless  disposition 
will  regard  it  only  as  a  bird-bolt. 

The  cure  for  bad  temper  is,  therefore,  first,  to 
learn  to  obey  one's  conscience,  and  acquire  a  habit 
of  doing  what  is  right  ;  and,  secondly,  to  learn  to 
forget  one's  self,  and  acquire  a  habit  of  living  for 
others.  Then  there  enters  the  soul  that  good  tem- 
per which  is  higher  than  good  nature,  more  lasting 


THE   EDUCATION  OF    THE    TEMPER.         29'd 

and  more  profound  tlian  good  humor;  the  good  tem- 
per which  grows  deeper  and  purer  and  sweeter  with 
advancing  years,  which  no  wrung  can  embitter,  no 
misfortune  chill,  which  sits  in  the  sunlight,  and  en- 
joys clear  day  when  darkness  falls  around.  Such 
an  one  is  "his  own  music,  his  own  health."  He 
has  a  summer  day  all  the  way  to  heaven.  His  well- 
tuned  humors  are  in  a  perpetual  harmony.  He  is 
the  man  descrihed  by  Crashaw  :  — 

"  Whose  latest,  and  most  leaden  hours, 
Fall  with  soft  wings,  stuck  with  fresh  flowers  ; 
And,  when  life's  sweet  journey  ends, 
Soul  and  body  part  like  friends; 
No  quarrels,  murmurs,  no  delay, — 
A  kiss,  a  sigh,  and  so  away  !  " 

Conscience  and  love,  when  they  govern  the  char- 
acter, and  are  accepted  as  its  rulers,  produce  this 
heavenly  peace  in  the  soul.  All  the  powers  i'all 
into  their  places,  and  become  harmonious  under 
their  sway.  And  these,  again,  are  elevated  to  their 
supreme  place,  when  we  come  to  know  and  to  love 
God. 

Love,  sitting  in  the  heart,  touches  all  the  keys  and 
brings  out  all  the  music.  If  we  desire  to  do  what 
will  please  God,  and  what  will  help  man,  we  pres- 
ently find  ourselves  taken  out  of  our  narrow  habits 
of  thought  and  action  ;  we  find  new  elements  of  our 
nature  called  into  activity  ;  we  are  no  longer  run- 
ning alons  a  narrow  track  of  selfish  habit  :  we  are 
necessarily  brought,  in   the  providence  of  (.rod.  into 


300  SELF-  CUL  TURK. 

new  relations,  have  new  and  difficult  duties  ;  but 
the  result  appears  in  a  healthy  state  of  mind  and 
heart,  and  that  perfume  and  aroma  which  we  call 
good  temper. 

Therefore,  the  first  condition  of  all  true  life  is 
this  supreme  love  to  God  and  goodness.  If,  each 
day,  we  seek  first  of  all  to  be  in  a  spirit  of  good-will, 
to  be  open  to  sympathy  with  those  around  us,  to  do 
what  work  God  sends  us  from  love  for  him,  to  do 
whatever  our  hand  finds  to  do  for  others  out  of  love 
for  our  neighbor, —  then  we  shall  have  that  "perfume 
tempered  together,  pare  and  holy,"  which  shall  make 
the  day  sweet  and  the  night  serene,  the  peace  pass- 
ing understanding  which  Christ's  love  gives,  and  the 
world  cannot  take  away. 

Have  we  not  sometimes  seen  persons  on  whom 
this  ineffable  Dove  of  Peace  seemed  always  to 
brood,  —  some  persons  whom  nothing  could  disturb, 
no  accident,  no  disappointment,  no  disaster;  who 
never  seemed  vexed,  never  discomposed,  never  sore, 
never  out  of  temper;  who  were  impregnable  to  all 
assaults  of  evil  ;  who  were  like  the  rock  in  the  sea, 
over  which  the  great  billows  break  and  roar,  but 
which  stands  unmoved,  and  emerges  at  last  calm  and 
firm  as  ever  ? 

What  produced  this  divine  serenity,  subject  to  no 
moods,  clouded  by  no  depression,  this  perpetual 
Sunday  of  the  heart  ?  Tt  was  not  merely  good- 
nature, not  the  accident  of  a  happy  organization. 
It  was  deeper  than   that.     It  was  the  perfect  poise 


THE   EDUCATION  OE    THE    TEMPER.        301 

resulting  from  a  Christian  experience.  It  was  the 
habit  of  looking  to  God  in  love  and  to  man  in  love. 

Wordsworth,  in  one  of  his  poems,  describes  Mat- 
thew, the  village  schoolmaster,  as  "a  soul  of  God's 
best  earthly  mould  ;"  a  soul  which  felt  so  profoundly 
that  it  seemed  to  think  profoundly;  a  soul  in  which 
old  affections  were  so  deeply  rooted  that  they  made 
him  unequal  to  any  verbal  expression,  but  gave  an 
aroma  to  every  utterance,  so  that  words  from  his 
lips  turned  to  poetry.  Tears  of  liidit,  dews  of  glad- 
ness,  came  into  the  old  man's  eyes  in  thinking  of 
former  friends  and  early  days  ;  mirth  above,  with 
sadness  beneath  ;  eyes  dim  witli  childish  tears  at 
the  thought  of  what  age  had  taken  away  and  left 
behind  ;  the  wish  to  be  more  beloved  ;  but  all  these 
forgotten  presently  in  the  joy  of  the  moment.  Thus 
Wordsworth  describes  his  schoolmaster,  Matthew, 
finding  in  a  commonplace  person  the  elements  of 
poetry,  because  of  his  well-tempered  soul. 

This  is  what  the  Apostle  Paul  means  by  his  de- 
scription of  charity.  That  wonderful  description  is 
lmt  rhapsody  or  declamation;  nor  is  it  the  account 
of  an  ideal,  super-angelic  state,  impossible  for  us 
here,  to  Ik;  reached  in  some'  heavenly  world.  This 
divine  power  of  love  is  possible  for  us  all.  Only  let 
the  love  for  God  and  man  enter  the  soul,  and  then 
you  have  in  you  the  elements  here  described.  You 
will  find  it  not  difficult  to  "suffer  long  and  be 
kind."  It  will  seem  a  very  simple  thing  not  to 
envy,  not  to  boast,  not  to  behave  unseemlv,  not  to 


3  U  2  -S  A  Z.  /•-  C  £  rZ  TTZtf-fi". 

be  always  seeking  your  own.  Whereas,  before,  you 
were  easily  provoked,  now  you  smile  at  provocation, 
and  are  unruffled  by  injury.  You  become  able  to 
"bear  all  things"  without  growing  angry;  to  "be- 
lieve all  things;'  no  matter  how  bad  and  false  they 
may  be,  have  in  them  a  possibility  of  some  future 
good;  to  hope  for  all  good,  in  the  midst  of  evil,  and 
to  ''endure  all  things"  to  the  end,  patient,  because 
sure  that  the  Lord  reigns.  This  dues  not  require 
that  our  love  shall  be  perfect,  unalloyed,  or  undis- 
turbed. It  does  not  mean  that  we  shall  be  angels, 
but  that  we  shall  begin,  under  this  mighty  stimu- 
lus, to  grow  up  into  all  tilings  good  and  right. 

Good  temper  does  not  come  from  repression,  but 
expression;  not  from  emptiness,  but  from  fulness. 
It  is  not  merely  abstinence,  though  we  must  often 
abstain  ;  nor  renunciation,  though  renunciation  is  a 
necessary  exercise  ;  nor  self-denial,  though  the  prac- 
tice of  .-elf-denial  is  essential  to  all  manliness.  But 
true  temperance  is  higher  than  abstinence:  it  is 
harmonious  development,  well-balanced  growth. 

And  the  necessary  basis  of  it  all  is  faith  in  a  liv- 
ing God.  We  cannot  grow  from  bad  temper  to 
good  temper  while  we  only  believe  in  force  or  law, 
in  the  properties  of  matter,  or  in  a  God  far  off,  above 
the  sky,  a  King  and  Judge,  but  no  Father.  To  have 
a  sweet  temper,  we  must  have  faith  in  a  divine 
providence.  That  alone  lifts  us  above  anxiety  and 
care;  that  alone  plants  our  feet  on  a  rock,  and 
brings  content,  satisfaction,  and  peace  into  the  soul. 


THE   EDCCATIOX   OF    THE    TEMPER.        303 

Good  temper  may  be  the  last  attainment  of  the 
soul.  Tt  is  often  the  result'  of  a  long  experience, 
and  yet  we  have  it  at  any  moment  when  we  are  un- 
selfish, when  we  are  thinking  of  others.  This  gives 
us  self-possession,  inward  peace,  power  to  do  any 
work  well,  satisfaction  with  ourselves,  and  a  radiance 
of  light  and  love  which  enables  us  to  help  others. 


XIV. 
CULTURE  BY  READING  AND  BOOKS. 


XIV. 
CULTURE  BY  READING  AND  BOOKS. 


TFTK  subject  of  tin's  chapter  is  "  Reading  as  a 
Means  of  Culture." 
The  "  Publisher's  Circular"  gives  the  statistics  of 
the  books  issued  each  year  from  the  press  in  Eng- 
land. The  annual  number  of  titles,  one  year  with 
another,  is  about  five  thousand.  About  two-thirds 
of  these  are  new  books ;  the  others  are  reprints. 
Last  year  there  were  737  theological  books,  529 
educational  works,  522  juvenile  books,  and  S54 
works  of  fiction.  I  have  not  at  hand  the  statistics 
of  books  for  the  United  States,  but  it  must  compare 
favorably  with  that  of  England,  as  a  larger  propor- 
tion of  our  population  are  able  to  read  than  in  that 
country.  The  number  of  copies  of  newspapers 
printed  and  circulated  every  year  in  the  United 
States  is  enormous,  —  I  was  about  to  say  frightful. 
The  annual  circulation  is  fifteen  hundred  millions 
of  copies,  which  would  give  about  forty  copies  every 
year  to  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  United 
States. 


308  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

These  statistics  show  how  much  time  is  occupied 
by  the  people  in  reading.  And  it  is  a  valuable 
education,  so  far  as  it  goes.  Poor  as  much  is  that 
is  printed,  it  is  better  than  the  common  talk.  The 
average  newspaper  is  higher  than  the  average  con- 
versation. The  newspaper  does  not  swear,  does  not 
use  coarse  and  gross  language  ;  it  is  often  weak,  but 
does  not  talk  pure  nonsense.  It  is  trying  to  say 
something,  and  it  lias  to  seem  to  be  aiming  at  some- 
thing honest,  true,  and  generous.  The  newspapers 
give  a  vast  amount  of  information  in  regard  to  the 
affairs  of  mankind.  The  nation  which  reads  news- 
papers is  able  to  sympathize  with  the  people  of 
other  countries  ;  men's  hearts  are  enlarged,  and  they 
are  helped  to  love  their  fellow-men.  Without  news- 
papers, we  should  never  have  felt  sympathy  with 
Greece  in  her  revolution,  with  Poland  in  its  misfor- 
tunes, with  Italy  in  its  independence  and  unity, 
witli  France  in  her  great  disasters  and  subsequent 
recovery.  Without  the  newspapers,  we  should  not 
have  sent  food  to  starving  Ireland  in  its  years  of 
famine,  for  we  should,  as  a  people,  have  known 
nothing  about  it.  The  newspapers  create  a  common 
feeling  and  a  common  opinion  through  the  whole 
land,  and  a  sympathy  with  the  people  of  other 
lands.  So  they  help  the  cause  of  humanity  and  of 
social  progress. 

But  with  all  this  good  done  by  reading  news- 
papers, there  is  one  particular  evil.  It  produces 
that  state  of  mind  which  the  Book  of  Acts  ascribed 


CULTURE   BY  READING   AM)   HOOKS.       30!) 

to  the  Athenians:  "  The  Athenians  and  strangers  at 
Athens  passed  all  their  time,"  so  we  are  told  in  the 
Acts,"  in  seeing  and  hearing  some  new  thing."  liut 
this  desire  to  know  something  new  did  not  enable 
them  to  receive  Christianity,  though  Christianity  was 
then  the  newest  thing  in  the  world,  and  something 
which  would  make  the  whole  world  new.  What 
they  wanted  was  not  the  new,  but  the  novel.  They 
wished  for  novel  sensations,  perpetual  change.  This 
love  for  intellectual  excitement  weakened  tin;  grasp 
of  their  mind  so  much  that  at  last  they  lost  the 
power  of  perceiving  truth.  They  could  not  tell 
the  difference  between  a  new  gospel  and  a  new 
quackery.  And  so  it  happened  that  in  Athens 
almost  alone,  of  all  places  where  Paul  preached, — 
in  Athens,  the  eye  of  Greece,  the  literary  emporium 
of  the  earth,  —  in  Athens  there  were  no  converts  to 
Christianity,  and  no  Christian  church.  We  nowhere 
read  or  hear  of  the  church  at  Athens,  and  we  have 
in  the  New  Testament  no  epistle  to  the  Athenians. 

Because,  therefore,  the  people  of  Athens  were  so 
fond  of  new  tilings,  they  could  not  see  nor  know  the 
new  thing  when  it  was  before  their  eyes.  What 
Paul  said  to  them  was  a  slight  excitement,  gave 
them  a  half-hour's  entertainment,  about  as  much  as 
would  have  been  occasioned  by  a  new  statue  by 
Praxiteles,  or  a  new  oration  by  Lysias,  or  the  arrival 
of  ambassadors  from  the  great  king,  or  a  tleet  of 
triremes  sailing  up  the  Gulf  of  Salamis,  or  the  cele- 
bration of  the  mysteries  at   Eleusis.     "There  is  a 


310  SELF-  CUL  TURE. 

Jew  come  to  the  city  preaching  a  new  doctrine; 
will  yon  go  and  hear  him,  0  Cleon  ?  He  speaks  to 
the  people  on  the  Areopagus."  "  Certainly,  provided 
he  gets  through  in  season  for  the  tragedy  of  'CEdipus 
Tyrannus,'  which  is  to  be  acted  to-day  in  the  Theatre 
of  Bacchus."  And  so  they  hear  Paul,  and  then 
listen  to  the  rhythmic  stroin  of  Sophocles;  and  by 
the  time  they  have  reached  the  catastrophe,  the 
woes  of  CEdipus  have  made  them  quite  forget  the 
story  of  Christ's  death  and  resurrection. 

So  Paul  departed  from  among  them.  There  was 
no  depth  in  that  soil. 

The  newspaper  creates  and  feeds  the  appetite  for 
news.  When  we  read  it,  it  is  not  to  find  what  is 
true,  what  is  important,  what  we  must  consider  and 
reflect  upon,  what  we  must  carry  away  and  remem- 
ber, but  what  is  new.  When  any  very  curious  or 
important  event  occurs,  the  newspaper,  in  narrating 
it,  often  gives,  as  its  only  comment  and  reflection, 
this  phrase,  "  What  next  ? "  That  is  often  the 
motto  of  the  newspaper  and  the  newspaper  reader, 
"  What  next  ? "  The  only  reflection  and  moral 
derived  from  learning  a  great  fact  is  simply  this, 
"  Xow  let  us  hear  of  another."  The  whole  world 
rushes  to  the  newspaper  every  morning  to  find  out 
what  has  happened  since  yesterday  ;  and  the  moment 
it  finds  what  has  happened,  it  cares  no  more  about 
it.  We  think  no  more  of  yesterday's  newspaper 
than  of  yesterday's  dinner.  We  forget  both  as  soon 
as    possible.     This  is   a   mental    dissipation    which 


C L  L  7  Y  K /■:    B  \ '   R EA I) IXG   A.\  D   BOOKS.        oil 

takes  away  mental  earnestness,  and  destroys  all 
hearty  interest  in  truth.  It  also  weakens  the 
memory.  The  memory,  like  all  other  powers,  is 
strengthened  by  exercise.  "We  cultivate  our  memory 
by  remembering.  But  if  we  read,  not  intending  to 
remember  what  we  read,  but  expecting  to  forget  it, 
then  we  cultivate  the  habit  of  forgetting.  I  think 
that  the  effect  of  reading  newspapers,  in  the  way 
we  read  them,  must  be  to  weaken  steadily  and 
permanently,  the  memory  of  the  nation.  Every 
generation  will  be  born  with  a  worse  memory  than 
that  which  preceded  it.  The  proper  way  to  cure 
this  evil  would  be  to  select  every  day  from  the 
newspaper  certain  important  facts  to  lie  carried  in 
the  mind,  considered  and  thought  about.  These 
would  lie  fixed  in  the  memory.  They  should  be 
made  the  subject  of  conversation  with  friends  or  in 
the  family,  and  this  would  improve  the  memory, 
instead  of  destroying  it. 

1  n  short, in  reading,  and  in  all  that  we  read,  our  mind 
should  be  active,  and  not  passive.     Milton  says:  — 

"  Who  reads 
Incessantly,  and  to  his  reading  brings  not 
A  spirit  and  genius  equal  or  superior, 
Uncertain  and  unsettled  still  remains, 
Deep  versed  in  books  and  shallow  in  himself." 

Ami  Lord  Bacon  tells  us  that  "reading  makes  a 
full  man,  conference  (or  conversation)  a  ready  man. 
and  writing  an  exact  man  ;"  and  that  we  should  read, 
not  to  contradict   and   confute,  nor  to   believe   and 


3 1 2  SELF-  CUL  TURE. 

take  for  granted,  nor  to  find  talk  and  disconr.se,  but 
to  weigh  and  consider.  Montaigne,  who  had  a  pas- 
sion for  books,  who  never  travelled  without  them, 
and  called  them  the  best  viaticum  for  this  journey 
of  life,  said  that  the  principal  use  of  reading,  to  him, 
was,  that  it  roused  his  reason.  It  employed  his 
judgment,  not  his  memory.  "Bead  much, not  many 
tilings,"  is  good  advice.  There  was  an  old  saying, 
"He  is  a  man  of  one,  book."  If  one  reads  but  one 
book,  he  may  read  that  one  book  so  well  as  to  be  a 
very  hard  man  to  encounter.  But  he  is  a  happy 
person  who  enjoys  his  books,  and  to  whom  the  day 
does  not  seem  long  enough  for  reading.  For  books 
are  friends  who  never  quarrel,  never  complain,  are 
never  false  ;  who  come  from  far  ages  and  old  lands 
to  talk  with  us  when  we  wish  to  hear  them,  and  are 
silent  when  we  are  weary.  Good  books  take  us 
away  from  our  small  troubles  and  petty  vexations 
into  a  serene  atmosphere  of  thought,  nobleness,  truth. 
They  are  solace  in  sorrow,  and  companions  in  joy. 

Knowledge  of  books,  and  a  habit  of  careful  read- 
ing, is  a  most  important  means  of  intellectual  de- 
velopment. It  gives  mental  breadth,  poise,  and 
authority.  The  man  of  great  practical  abilities,  but 
unacquainted  with  the  history  or  theory  of  a  sub- 
ject, is  liable  to  make  serious  mistakes.  He  cannot 
be  trusted.  ]i'  he  is  conscious  himself  of  his  igno- 
rance, he  is  timid;  if  not  conscious,  Ik;  is  rash.  It 
would  be  impossible  for  our  members  of  Congress  to 
commit  so   many   blunders  if  they  should   pass   an 


CULTURE   BY  READING  AND   BOOKS.        313 

examination  in  political  economy  before  taking  their 
seats.  To  read  two  or  three  good  hooks  on  any  sub- 
ject is  equivalent  to  hearing  it  discussed  by  an 
assembly  of  wise,  able,  and  impartial  experts,  who 
tell  yon  all  that  can  be  known  about  it.  Von  see 
the  whole  field,  understand  all  that  can  be  said  on 
one  side  or  the  other,  know  what  has  been  the  re- 
sult in  practice  of  either  course.  The  experience  of 
the  whole  world,  and  of  all  past  history,  comes  to 
your  aid. 

The  moral  influence  also  of  good  books  is  very 
great.  They  purify  the  taste,  elevate  the  character, 
make  low  pleasures  unattractive,  and  carry  the  soul 
up  into  a  region  of  noble  aims  and  generous  pur- 
poses. All  first-class  books  are  eminently  moral; 
and  all  immoral  books  are,  so  far,  poor  books. 
Homer,  Shakspeare,  Plato,  Dante,  are  pure  in  their 
spirit,  and  elevate  the  character.  Xo  one  can 
make  a  thorough  study  of  such  books  as  these  with- 
out being  a  better  man.  Milton  says,  and  says 
truly,  that  "  our  sage  and  serious  poet,  Spenser,  is,  I 
dare  be  known  to  think,  a  better  teacher  of  temper- 
ance than  Scotus  or  Aquinas."  Who  can  read  the 
biography  of  Dr.  Franklin  without  learning  to  ad- 
mire such  a  life  of  perpetual  study,  unfailing  indus- 
try, large  patriotism,  temperance,  good-humor,  and 
general  good- will  ?  "When  we  read  the  story  of 
Washington  we  become  sure  that  disinterested  pub- 
lie  service  is  a  real  thing.  The  charming  allegory 
of  the  "Pilgrim's  Progress"  teaches,  in  pictures  too 


3 1 4  SELF-  CUL  TURK. 

vivid  to  be  ever  forgotten,  of  the  temptations  and 
dangers  we  must  encounter  in  any  serious  effort  to 
save  our  soul. 

Religious  Looks  are  usually  considered  dull  and 
uninteresting ;  but  that  they  need  not  be  so  appears 
from  the  example  of  this  book  of  Bunyan's,  and  from 
the  popularity  of  religious  books  far  inferior  in  their 
quality.  In  fact,  religious  books  stand  at  the  sum- 
mit of  literature.  First  come  the  Bibles  of  the  race, 
—  the  books  of  books,  —  and,  before  all  others,  the 
Christian  ami  Hebrew  Bible,  winch  constitutes  the 
chief  reading  of  millions  of  the  most  civilized  races 
of  men.  Then  come  the  Bibles  of  the  Hindoos,  the 
Persians,  the  Chinese,  the  Buddhists,  also  circulated 
by  millions  of  copies  during  numerous  centuries. 
Next  come  religious  books  of  the  second  class,  as 
the  works  of  Homer,  Hesiod,  Eschylus,  Pindar;  the 
great  poems  of  Dante  and  Milton;  and,  after  these, 
the  lives  of  saints,  the  liturgies  and  hymns  of  the 
ages,  the  manuals  of  devotion,  ''The  Imitation  of 
Christ,"  "Taylor's  Holy  Living."  the  works  of 
Aquinas,  Luther,  Calvin,  Wesley,  Swedenborg, 
(.'banning.  The  vast  circulation  of  such  works  tes- 
tifies that  there  is  nothing  so  interesting  to  the 
human  heart  as  religion. 

But  "let  him  that  readeth  understand;'  It  used 
to  be  thought  a  great  credit  to  a  boy  to  "love  Ins 
book,"  to  be  fond  of  reading.  But  all  depends  on 
what  we  read  and  how  we  read.  One  may  have  a 
morbid  love  of  reading.     The  habit  of  reading  mav 


CULTURE   BY  READIXG   AND   BOOKS.       315 

become  an  evil.  I  have  known  persons  who  had 
acquired  such  a  love  fur  novel-reading  that  it  was  a 
real  disease.  They  swallowed  novel  after  novel  as  a 
rum-drinker  swallows  his  glass  of  spirits.  They 
lived  on  that  excitement.  They  were  passive  re- 
cipients of  these  stories,  and  the  more  they  read  the 
weaker  grew  their  minds.  The  residt  of  this  sort 
of  reading  is  mental  imbecility.  Better,  instead  of 
it,  to  walk  in  the  fields,  to  dig  potatoes,  or  to  talk 
with  the  first  man  you  meet. 

1  do  not  mean  to  say  that  novel-reading  is  neces- 
sarily bad.  It  was  formerly  thought  wrong  to  read 
novels  at  all ;  or,  at  least,  wrong  to  read  anything 
but  the  regular  moral  romance  :  the  writings  of  Miss 
Edgeworth,  Miss  Barney,  and  the  like.  But  novels 
in  which  the  moral  is  too  prominent  are  usually  not 
so  influential  as  those  in  which  it  comes,  as  in  life, 
out  of  the  incidents  themselves.  "The  Vicar  of 
Wakefield"  has  not  any  moral  which  compels  your 
attention.  "'Don  Quixote"  has  no  obtrusive  moral. 
But  who  can  read  the  first  and  not  sympathize  with 
the  good  man,  who,  with  all  his  ignorance  of  the 
world  and  its  ways,  commands  our  respect  by  his 
honorable  purposes  and  his  loyalty  to  truth  and 
right.  So,  while  we  read  "Don  Quixote,"  we  smile 
at  the  folly  of  the  good  knight  witli  the  surface  of 
our  mind,  and  love  and  honor  him  in  the  depths  of 
our  heart,  for  the  magnanimity  and  nobleness  of  his 
character.  We  smile  at  him,  but  respect  him. 
Such  books   make   us   feel   how   much    better  is  in< 


316  SELF-CULTURE. 

ward  purity  and  uprightness  than  any  mere  knowl- 
edge of  the  world  or  outward  success.  That  is  their 
moral,  and  it  is  a  great  one.  But  it  is  nowhere 
stated  in  so  many  words. 

The  great  merit  of  Walter  Scott's  novels  is  their 
generous  and  pure  sentiment.  There  is  a  strain  of 
generosity,  manliness,  truth,  which  runs  through 
them  all.  They  nowhere  take  for  granted  mean- 
ness; they  always  take  for  granted  justice  and 
honor.  Xow  this  is  the  real,  though  subtle,  influ- 
ence which  comes  from  novels,  poems,  plays.  This 
indirect  influence,  this  taking  1'or  granted,  is  the 
most  influential  of  all.  Some  books  take  for  granted 
that  man  is  selfish  and  mean.  Others  take  for 
granted  that  he  is  noble  and  true.  Some  assume 
that  all  men  are  led  by  selfishness,  and  all  women 
by  vanity.  Such  books  are  deeply  immoral,  no 
matter  what  good  maxims  are  tacked  to  them.  For 
our  standard  of  right  and  wrong  is  usually  that  of 
the  public  opinion  just  around  us,  and  the  books  we 
read  create  a  part  of  that  public  opinion.  Such 
works  as  those  of  Dickens  have  gone  into  public 
opinion,  and  have  been  the  guides  of  the  public  con- 
science. They  have  made  us  all  feel  the  duty  of 
caring  for  such  poor  orphans  as  Smike;  they  have 
made  us  love  the  lowly ;  they  have  infused  an 
aroma  of  generous  feeling  into  the  public  mind. 
Catholics  have  their  confessors,  and  those  priests 
whom  they  call  their  directors,  to  whom  they  go  to 
tell  them  what  thev  oujjlit  to  do.     Such  writers  as 


CULTURE   BY  READING  AND   BOOR'S.       317 

Scott  and  Dickens  arc  the  directors  of  the  public 
conscience.     Well  when  they  direct  it  aright. 

Novels  are  good  or  had,  like  other  books.  To 
ask  whether  we  ought  to  read  novels  is  like  asking 
whether  we  ought  to  go  into  society.  Choose  your 
associates;  choose  your  books.  Do  not  read  any- 
thing and  everything  because  it  is  printed.  Mean- 
ness, cynicism,  cruelty,  falsehood,  get  themselves 
printed.  Protestant  countries  have  no  index  of 
prohibited  books,  no  restraint  on  unlimited  print- 
ing. It  is  all  the  more  necessary  that  each  one 
should  examine  for  himself  the  character  of  what 
he  reads,  and  find  what  effect  it  has  on  him. 

Let  him  that  readeth  understand.  "  Weigh  and 
consider." 

I  return  to  the  maxim  to  which  I  referred  above, 
non  mvlta,scd  multum.  Read  much,  but  do  not  read 
many  tilings.  Select  the  great  teachers  of  the  race, 
the  great  masters,  and  read  them.  Read  Bacon, 
Milton,  Shakspeare,  Dante,  Homer,  Herodotus, 
Thucydides,  Schiller,  Goethe,  Lessing.  Do  not 
read  about  these  authors  in  magazines,  but  read 
the  authors  themselves.  He  who  has  once  care- 
fully read  Bacon's  '•Advancement  of  Learning,"  or 
Milton's  "  Areopagitica,"  or  the  " Phcedo "  of  Plato, 
has  taken  a  step  forward  in  thought  and  life.  We 
read  many  criticisms  on  books;  it  were  better  to 
read  the  books  themselves.  Who,  in  visiting  Ni- 
agara, instead  of  looking  at  the  majestic  cataract 
itself,  would  wish  to  see  it  reflected  in  a  mirror  in 


3  1  8  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

a  camera  obscura  ?  Drink  at  the  fountain,  not  from 
the  stream.  Read  Pope,  rather  than  Dr.  Johnson's 
account  of  him.  Read  Milton  before  you  read  Ma- 
caulay's  article  on  Milton.  Read  Goethe,  and  then 
Carlyle's  essay  on  Goethe.  Literature  tends  too 
much  to  diluted  and  second-hand  reading.  Instead 
of  great  boohs,  we  read  the  reviews  of  books,  then 
articles  on  the  reviews,  then  criticisms  on  those 
articles,  then  essays  on  those  criticisms. 

It  is  an  epoch  in  one's  life  to  read  a  great  book 
for  the  first  time.  It  is  like  going  to  Mont  Blanc 
or  to  Niagara  without  the  journey  or  the  expense. 
When  I  was  a  boy  I  lived  in  the  country,  and  had 
constructed  for  myself  a  reading-room  amid  the  mas- 
sive limbs  of  an  old  chestnut-tree.  There  I  retired, 
and  spent  long  mornings  in  reading  the  plays  of 
Shakspeare,  the  "  Paradise  Lost,"  the  songs  of  Burns, 
the  poems  of  Wordsworth  or  of  Walter  Scott.  I 
immersed  myself  in  them.  The  hours  passed  by, 
the  sun  sank  lower  toward  his  setting,  the  shadows 
moved  on  ;  entranced  in  my  book,  I  read  and  no- 
ticed nothing.  To  read  a  good  book  thus  is  an 
event  in  one's  life. 

I  once  spent  a,  long  day  in  reading  the  Book  of 
Job  in  the  translation  of  Noyes.  I  had  never  read 
it  before  from  the  beginning  to  the  end.  It  was  a 
day  much  to  be  remembered.  I  beg  of  you  to  take 
such  books  as  these  when  you  have  time  enough, 
and  read  them  through  ;  else  you  cannot  know  how 
great   they  are.      Such   books  are   not   meant  to  be 


CULTURE   BY  READING  AND   BOOKS.        319 

read  as  serials,  or  to  lie  issued  in  monthly  numbers. 
To  read  Milton's  "  Paradise  Lost,"  take  a  long  sum- 
mer's day.  Go  into  the  country,  and  sit  in  the  woods 
alone.  Head  on  and  on,  and  give  the  whole  day  to 
it.  Only  so  can  you  realize  the  majesty  of  that 
muse,  — 

"  Sailing  with  supreme  dominion 
Through  the  azure  depths  of  air," 

—  the  genius  which  paints  in  turn  the  sublime  hor- 
rors of  hell,  the  tender  beauty  of  paradise,  — 

"  The  spirits  and  Intelligences  fair 
And  angels  waiting  on  the  Almighty's  chair." 

In  reading  a  book,  you  will  notice  that  besides 
the  thoughts,  besides  the  visible  moral,  it  has  a  soul, 
a  leaven  of  character.  The  words  of  a  book  may  be 
very  moral,  but  the  tone  immoral.  The  words  may 
be  religious,  but  the  tone  sceptical.  For  the  religion 
may  be  a  mere  smooth,  cold  crust  over  a  deep  run- 
ning tendency  to  doubt  ;  the  morality  may  lie  ex- 
hortation to  correct  conduct  coming  out  of  a  spirit 
which  does  not  believe  in  right  or  wrong.  That 
book,  to  me,  is  not  moral  which  is  stuffed  with 
moral  maxims,  or  in  which  good  people  end  by 
getting  rich  and  prosperous  ;  but  that  which  makes 
goodness  seem  both  beautiful  and  possible  ;  which 
makes  it  seem  worth  while  to  live,  that  we  may  live 
generously  and  nobly.  That  book  to  me  is  religious, 
not  which  exhorts  us  solemnly  to  become  pious  un- 
der penalty  of  going  to  hell   if  we  are  not.  but  in 


320  SELF-CULTURE. 

which  love  to  God  and  man  seem  natural,  easy,  and 
beautiful. 

A  book  may  be  religious  without  being  Christian. 
The  religious  feeling  which  pours  itself  out  in  ex- 
pressions of  awe,  reverence,  fear,  remorse,  trust,  is 
nearly  the  same  in  all  lands,  all  times,  and  all  relig- 
ions. Something  of  it  is  to  be  found  in  Buddhism, 
in  Mohammedanism,  among  the  Hindoos  and  the 
Chinese.  But  Christianity  adds  the  element  of  faith 
in  God  as  a  living  friend,  close  to  us,  who  cares  for 
us  all,  loves  all  his  children,  and  whose  true  service 
is  not  solemn  ceremonies  or  tremendous  sacraments, 
but  doing  good  to  the  poor,  the  lonely,  the  down- 
trodden, the  oppressed.  The  spirit  of  Christianity 
is  the  spirit  of  Jesus.  When  a  book  has  not  the 
spirit  of  Christ,  it  is  none  of  his,  though  it  may  be 
full  of  religious  notions,  and  maybe  popular  enough 
to  reach  a  hundred  editions.  The  book  which  lias 
in  it  the  spirit  of  Christ  is  an  apostle  of  Christian- 
ity, though  it  be  a  novel  by  Dickens,  or  a  poem  by 
Tennyson. 

Biography,  history,  and  travels  give  us  more  in- 
formation than  any  other  kind  of  works.  They 
should  lie  read  together.  One  illustrates  the  other. 
And  I  think  these  are  the  books  to  read  in  classes. 
The  best  way  of  learning  history  is  to  have  a  class, 
in  which  a  certain  period  of  history  shall  lie  the 
subject  of  the  lesson,  and  each  member  of  the  class 
read  in  a  different  book  about  that  period.  Then, 
when  they  come  together,  each  lias  something  to  tell 


CULTURE   BY  READING   AND   BOOKS.       321 

to  the  others,  and  something  to  learn  from  them. 
And,  in  like  manner,  it  is  well  to  form  classes  to 
read  other  works  and  pursue  other  studies,  for  so 
the  stimulus  of  society  and  co-operation  aids  the 
solitary  study  which  accompanies  it. 

I  will  close  these  remarks  with  a  few  rules  to 
assist  in  reading  to  advantage. 

1.  One  rule  is,  to  read  what  interests  you.  In- 
teresting hooks  are  those  which  do  us  good.  Unless 
a  hook  interests  us,  we  cannot  fix  our  attention  to  it. 
Unless  we  attend  to  it,  we  do  not  understand  it,  or 
take  it  in.  Then,  we  are  wasting  our  time  on  a 
merely  mechanical  process,  and  are  deceiving  our- 
selves with  a  show  devoid  of  substance. 

The  Lest  hooks  are  the  most  interesting.  Those 
which  are  clearest,  most  intelligible,  best  expressed, 
the  logic  of  which  is  the  most  convincing ;  which 
are  deepest,  broadest,  loftiest.  Therefore,  read  the 
books  on  subjects  which  interest  you,  by  the  best 
writers  on  those  subjects. 

The  two  finest  prose  essays  in  the  English  lan- 
guage are  Lord  Bacon's  "  Essay  on  the  Advance- 
ment of  Learning,"  and  Milton's  tract  on  "  The 
Freedom  of  the  Tress."  And  these  are  also  inter- 
esting to  that  degree  that,  having  once  read  them, 
you  will  never  forget  them. 

The  most  interesting  books,  as  regards  their  sub- 
jects, are  well -written  biographies  and  well-written 
books  of  travels.  The  one  shows  us  human  nature, 
the  other  the  world  and  life.     Therefore  the  undying 

2L 


3  2  2  SEL  F-  CUL  TURK. 

charm  of  such  works  as  "  Plutarch's  Lives,"  Xeno- 
phon's  "  Memorabilia  of  Socrates,"  Johnson's  "  Lives 
of  the  Poets,"  the  biographical  essays  by  Macaulay 
and  Carlyle,  and  the  like. 

This  rule  of  reading  what  is  interesting  is  so  im- 
portant, that  it  is  a  good  appendix  to  the  rule  to 
stop  reading  when  we  find  we  cannot  fix  our  atten- 
tion and  are  reading  mechanically.  For  to  read 
without  attention  is  to  form  a  habit  of  inattention. 
To  read  without  interest,  will  tend  to  a  loss  of  in- 
terest in  all  reading.  To  go  through  the  mechanical 
form  of  reading  when  our  mind  is  not  in  it,  weakens 
the  mental  powers,  and  does  not  strengthen  them. 

Therefore,  select  the  best  and  most  interesting 
books  to  read. 

2.  The  check  on  this  rule,  which  will  prevent  its 
abuse,  is  another ;  namely,  "  Read  actively,  not  pas- 
sively." 

A  person  may  be  deeply  interested  in  a  sensa- 
tional story,  but  it  is  often  a  purely  passive  interest. 
He  does  not  think  about  what  he  is  reading.  The 
result  is  a  momentary  excitement,  and  after  it  is 
over  he  has  received  injury  rather  than  good  from 
it.  He  is  less  fit  to  think  or  to  act  than  he  was 
before. 

We  should  always,  in  reading,  exercise  memory, 
judgment,  and  the  faculties  of  comparison  and  rea- 
son. AVe  should  repeat  in  our  own  words  the  sub- 
stance of  what  we  read,  take  notes  of  it,  converse 
about  it,  fix  it  in  our  memory,  discuss  it  with  others, 


CULTURE   BY  READING   AM)   HOOKS.        32.') 

and  compare  it  with  other  books  on  the  same  sub- 
jects. This  takes  time  ;  but  it  is  far  better  to  read 
a  few  boohs  carefully  and  thoroughly,  than  many 
books  superficially.  Good  books  should  be  read 
again  and  again,  and  thought  about,  talked  about, 
considered  and  re-considered.  So,  at  last,  what  we 
read  becomes  our  own. 

3.  Therefore,  there  should  be  a  third  rule  ;  namely, 
to  read  with  some  system  and  method.  Arrange 
circumstances  so  as  to  keep  yourself  up  to  your 
work.  One  method  is  for  two  persons  to  read  the 
same  book,  and  to  meet  together  to  talk  about  it. 
T  read  a  large  part  of  Goethe  and  Schiller  and  some 
other  writers  in  this  way,  in  company  with  Mar- 
garet fuller,  spending  two  or  three  evenings  every 
week  at  her  house,  talking  with  her  about  what  we 
had  been  reading.  An  extension  of  this  method  is 
to  form  a  class  to  read  on  certain  subjects  ;  for  ex- 
ample, a  new  book,  a  period  of  history,  a  country 
and  people,  a  system  of  philosophy,  a  science,  and 
then  to  meet  and  discuss  together  this  common  sub- 
ject. Such  a  class  might  be  formed  in  connection 
with  every  book-club.  Where  tins  cannot  be  done, 
a  person  might,  at  least,  have  a  note-book,  and 
write  down  the  heads  of  what  he  reads,  and  his  own 
thoughts  about  it.  To  these  notes  he  would  after- 
ward refer  with  pleasure  and  advantage. 

If  a  person,  in  the  course  of  some  year.-',  should 
read  in  this  way  such  writers  as  Shakspeare,  Milton, 
Bacon,   Locke,   Gibbon,  Wordsworth,  and   our  best 


324  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

American  writers,  lie  would,  by  this  method  alone, 
acquire  a  good  education  and  a  large  intellectual  de- 
velopment. Any  one  important  hook  read  in  this 
way  would  enlarge  amazingly  the  sphere  of  one's 
knowledge.  I  knew  a  gentleman  who  read  thus 
"  Carlyle's  History  of  the  French  Eevolution ; "  look- 
ing up  every  event,  person,  and  place  referred  to, 
and  taking  notes  of  all,  and  thus  he  became  thor- 
oughly versed  in  the  whole  history  of  modern  Eu- 
rope. 

Let  us  be  thankful  for  books.  I  sympathize  with 
Charles  Lamb,  who  said  that  he  wished  to  ask  a 
"grace  before  reading"  more  than  a  "grace  before 
dinner."  "What  a  consolation  to  the  self-denying 
lii'e  of  that  good  son  and  good  brother  were  his 
books  ! 

Let  us  thank  God  for  books.  When  1  consider 
what  some  books  have  done  for  the  world,  and  what 
they  are  doing,  how  they  keep  up  our  hope,  awaken 
new  courage  and  faith,  soothe  pain,  give  an  ideal  life 
to  those  whose  homes  are  cold  and  hard,  bind  to- 
gether distant  ages  and  foreign  lands,  create  new- 
worlds  of  beauty,  bring  down  truth  from  heaven,  —  I 
give  eternal  blessings  for  this  gift,  and  pray  that  we 
may  all  use  it  aright,  and  abuse  it  never. 

Thank  God  for  books, — 

"  Those  stalely  arks,  that  from  the  deep 
Garner  tin-  life  fur  worlds  to  he  ; 
Ami,  with  tln-ir  glorious  hurden,  sweep 
Adown  dark  Time's  untravelled  sea." 


XV. 

THE  EDUCATION  OF  COURAGE. 


XV. 
THE  EDUCATION  OF  COURAGE. 


COURAGE  is  the  most  universally  admired  of 
human  qualities.  Only  be  brave,  or  seem  so, 
and  men  will  respect  you,  women  admire  you,  and 
children  worship  you.  Hence  there  are  so  many 
sham  forms  of  courage,  so  many  imitations.  Man- 
liness is  so  good  a  thing,  that  all  that  simulates  it 
has  a  certain  prestige.  Courage  is  a  fundamental 
faculty,  on  which  the  whole  of  human  attainment 
rests,  as  on  a  solid  basis.  To  defy  danger,  encoun- 
ter difficulties,  despise  hardships,  risk  evil  in  the 
pursuit  of  what  is  good,  true,  and  noble,  —  this  is 
a  motor  which  carries  the  world  onward.  If  we 
would  be  of  any  use,  we  must  not  be  afraid  of  re- 
sponsibilities;  we  must  be  ready  to  run  a  risk  of 
failure,  to  expose  ourselves  to  be  misunderstood  ; 
to  encounter  opposition,  censure,  dislike.  All  true 
life  is  a  warfare.  lie  who  would  be  true  to  himself 
and  his  own  convictions,  who  has  a  desire  to  obey 
his  conscience,  and  be  a.  law  to  himself,  will  imme- 
diately find  himself  in  the  heat  and  thick  of  battle. 
Drift   with   the   current,   think   as   others   think,  let 


328  SELF-CUL  TL  TXE. 

your  thoughts  keep  the  main  track,  say  -what  all 
men  are  saying,  and  no  warfare  is  necessary.  But 
stir  an  inch  from  the  beaten  road,  attempt  any  im- 
provement in  anything,  a  thousand  prejudices  are 
aroused,  and  all  vested  interests  become  alarmed. 
Therefore,  while  we  admire  courage,  we  shrink  a 
little  from  the  courageous  man.  We  know  it  is  a 
great  quality,  and  that  it  is  required  for  all  good 
conduct.     "We  admire  it,  but  fear  it. 

But  how  enchanting  are  all  tales  of  prowess,  all 
stories  of  adventure,  of  heroic  achievement,  of  dan- 
gers dared  !  Courage  is  the  theme  of  Homer,  Virgil, 
Spenser,  Walter  Scott ;  and,  to  come  down  lower, 
you  will  find  the  little  boys  reading  stories  of  noble 
pirates  and  chivalric  robbers,  and  feeding  their  poor 
little  minds  with  this  amazing  trash,  which  is  just 
now  poured  from  the  press  in  the  form  of  boys' 
newspapers.  For  courage  is  so  attractive,  that  when 
you  cannot  get  the  real  article,  even  the  counterfeit 
is  accepted.  Rudeness,  vulgarity,  brutal  language 
are  cultivated  by  boys  in  order  to  give  themselves 
the  air  of  manliness.  For  this  end  they  learn  to 
smoke  tobacco,  to  drink  intoxicating  liquor,  to  use 
profane  language.  These  evil  habits  are  cultivated 
in  order  to  acquire  the  semblance  of  manliness.  As 
you  pass  through  the  street  to-morrow,  out  of  every 
ten  men  you  see,  one  or  two  will  be  poisoning  the 
air  with  the  fumes  of  tobacco,  and  distributing  these 
noxious  vapors  into  the  faces  of  those  they  meet. 
Of  these  thousands   of  smokers,  hardlv  one   formed 


THE    EDUCATION   OE  COURAGE.  320 

the  habit  without  pain  and  difficulty.  It  was  ex- 
cessively disagreeable  at  first;  but  then  it  seemed 
manly,  and,  therefore,  desirable.  There  is,  of  course, 
nothing  specially  courageous  or  manly  in  exciting 
or  stupefying  the  nervous  system  with  tin's  narcotic; 
but  to  boys  and  youths  it  seems  so,  and  therefore 
they  begin  the  habit,  which  afterwards  becomes  a 
comfort  sometimes,  or  a  necessity. 

If  courage  is  thus  universally  admired,  and  if,  in- 
deed, it  is  so  important  an  element  in  all  human 
virtue,  why  lias  it  been  regarded  rather  as  a  Pagan 
than  us  a  ( 'hristian  virtue  ? 

Certainly,  courage  is.  and  always  lias  been,  as 
necessary  to  the  Christian  as  to  any  one  else.  If 
you  define  a  Christian  as  one  who  is  trying  to  be 
good  and  to  do  good,  then,  certainly,  he  needs  cour- 
age for  both  these  task's.  There  will  be  lightings 
without,  and  fears  within,  to  encounter  every  day. 
He  may  not  be  provided  with  bowie-knife  or  re- 
volver, lie  may  not  wrestle  with  flesh  and  blood. 
But  he  will  be  pretty  sun;  to  come  into  conflict 
with  the  rulers  of  the  darkness  of  this  world;  that 
is,  those  who  depend  on  popular  ignorance  for  their 
success.  lie  will  have  to  fight  with  "spiritual 
wickedness  in  high  places;"  that  is,  with  enthroned 
falsehoods,  erroneous  public  opinion  ;  dangerous 
influences  in  society,  in  church  and  state.  The  in- 
genuous youth  who  admires  pirates  and  prize-fight- 
ers may  sec  nothing  of  manliness  in  this,  but  in 
reality  it  requires  no  little  courage  to  fight  the  good 


330  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

fight  of  faith.  Horatius  Codes  defending  the  bridge 
was  not  more  heroic  than  Martin  Luther  on  his  way 

to  Worms.  The  brave  men  who  die  in  battle  sel- 
dom need  as  much  courage  as  that  bank  cashier 
who  recently,  in  Maine,  endured  a  slow  martyrdom, 
rather  than  reveal  the  secret  of  the  safe  and  betray 
his  trust.  Marshal  Xey,  "  the  bravest  of  the  brave," 
was  no  braver  than  many  a  fireman  who  penetrates 
through  smoke  and  flame  into  the  burning  building 
to  save  property  and  life,  and  dies,  perhaps,  in  the 
fulfilling  of  that  duty.  Honored  be  all  courage 
shown  for  noble  ends,  and  in  the  discharge  of  patri- 
otic duty  !  Honored  forever  be  the  courage  of  the 
three  hundred  at  Thermopylae,  of  the  six  hundred 
who  rode  into  the  jaws  of  death  at  Balaclava  ;  of  the 
heroes  who  fell  at  Fort  Wagner,  at  Gettysburg,  and 
all  those  whose  precious  memory  makes  our  land 
more  rich  and  sacred  !  But  honor  also  to  the  same 
great  element  of  courage,  whatever  weapon  it  uses, 
or  to  whatever  humble  scene  its  task  may  call  it ! 
Tt  is  needed  all  day  long  in  common  life,  thai,  we 
may  not  shrink  timidly  from  difficulties,  but:  en- 
counter them;  that  we  may  not  postpone  our  duties, 
nor  make  excuses  for  our  neglect,  nor  evade  telling 
the  truth  when  it  is  disagreeable  to  others,  or  in- 
volves mortification  to  ourselves:  that  we  may  lie 
loval  to  our  friends,  to  our  cause,  and  to  our  convic- 
tions, when  the  opinion  around  us  is  hostile  to  them. 
We  are  seldom  called  to  encounter  great  dangers; 
but.  if  we  have  the  courage  of  our  opinions,  we  are 


THE   EDUCATION  OF  COURAGE.  331 

always  in  danger  of  being  ridiculed  or  scolded,  or 
having  disagreeable  encounters  with  overbearing 
people,  or  positive  people,  or  dogmatists. 

One  of  the  evils  of  cowardice  is  that  it  tends  to 
falsehood.  Fear  is  the  mother  of  lies.  Slaves,  living 
in  terror,  defend  themselves  by  lying.  A  tyrannical 
schoolmaster  educates  his  scholars  to  concealment, 
dissimulation,  subterfuge.  A  religion  of  terror 
creates  hypocrites.  Under  despotic  governments, 
which  reign  by  producing  fear,  the  soil  is  under- 
mined by  conspiracy,  stratagems,  and  secret  treason. 
Only  courage  is  truthful;  cowardice  is  always  false. 
Therefore,  free  governments  are  good,  for  in  them  all 
evils  come  quickly  to  the  surface  and  can  be  cured. 
Therefore,  the  parents  who  win  the  confidence  of 
their  children  by  treating  them  as  friends,  are  safe 
from  the  dissimulation  which  is  born  in  households 
where  sternness  and  severity  govern.  Liberal  Chris- 
tianity has  its  defects  and  its  faults  ;  but,  at  least,  it 
educates  men  to  courage,  and  the  offspring  of  cour- 
age, honesty,  and  truth. 

That  conscience  is  a  source  of  courage  appears 
from  many  instances.  It  is  evident  that,  in  the 
story  of  the  Good  Samaritan,  the  good  man  was 
willing  to  stop  and  run  the  risk  of  the  return  of 
the  robbers  by  delaying  his  journey,  because  it  was 
a  matter  of  conscience  with  him  to  give  effective 
help  to  the  sufferer.  An  impulse  of  kindness  would 
merely  have  led  him  to  give  some  temporary  aid, 
and  then  to  hurrv  awav  to  send  relief.      Sir  Samuel 


332  SELF-CULTURE. 

Eomilly,  one  of  the  great  reformers  of  the  English 
law,  rode  out  of  his  garden  gate  one  morning,  on 
horseback,  on  his  way  to  London  ;  and  his  favorite 
dog  rushed  out  after  him,  and  by  his  actions  Sir 
Samuel  Eomilly  soon  became  convinced  that  the 
dog  was  mad,  or  going  mad.  He  rode  by  his  side, 
near  the  dog,  thinking  how  he  should  prevent  mis- 
chief. He  would  not  ride  on,  and  call  others  to  his 
aid,  lest  they  should  be  bitten.  It  would  not  do  to 
let  the  dog  get  on  the  main  road  to  London,  crowded 
with  people.  So,  when  he  reached  the  gate  of  a 
friend's  garden,  he  rode  up  to  the  dog,  threw  him- 
self upon  him,  caught  him  by  the  neck,  raised  him 
in  the  air  so  as  to  prevent  him  from  getting  away, 
held  him  in  the  air  with  one  arm  while  he  opened 
the  gate,  went  in,  called  for  a  chain,  fastened  one  end 
to  a  tree  and  the  other  to  the  dog's  neck,  and  then 
threw  him  toward  the  tree,  and  so  prevented  him 
from  doing  harm.  Xow,  this  was  courage  born  of 
conscience.  Conscience  would  not  allow  this  good 
and  brave  man  to  call  for  help.  The  dog  was  his 
own  ;  he  himself  must  run  the  risk. 

We  shall  never  cultivate  our  courage  if  we  sup- 
pose it  is  only  needed  on  the  rare  occasions  in  which 
we  may  be  called  to  risk  our  life,  or  encounter  great 
peril.  The  only  way  to  educate  this  power  for  great 
occasions  is  to  practise  courage  in  all  the  small  events 
of  life.  We  shall  train  ourselves  to  bravery  only 
by  having  the  courage  to  tell  the  truth,  to  do  what 

JO  o 

is   just,  to  adhere  to  our  convictions  in  the  midst  of 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  COURAGE.  333 

the  strain  and  stress  of  business,  the  turmoil  of 
the  world,  and  the  performance  of  overy-day  du- 
ties. And  certainly  Christian  faith  will  help  us 
to  do  this. 

The  mediaeval  idea  of  Christ  was  of  one  who  came 
to  suffer  and  die,  not  resisting  or  opposing  evil.  The 
mediaeval  idea  of  Christianity  was  of  passive  submis- 
sion to  all  evil  and  wrong.  The  mediaeval  saint  was 
not  one  who  fought  bravely  the  battle  of  life,  but  one 
who  retired  from  the  world  to  live  in  a  monastery 
a  life  of  self-denial  and  prayer.  That  mediaeval  no- 
tion of  Christianity  has  come  down  to  our  time,  and 
it  is  often  assumed  that  Jesus  taught  and  practised 
only  the  passive  virtues  of  meekness,  long-suffering, 
patience,  submission  to  wrong,  and  non-resistance. 
No  doubt  he  told  his  disciples  not  to  resist  outward 
evil  with  outward  evil  ;  not  to  retaliate  wrong  with 
wrong;  not  to  fight  for  truth  with  the  sword.  And, 
no  doubt,  it  was  very  necessary  at  a  time  when 
the  Messiah  was  expected  to  be  an  outward  deliv- 
erer, a  warlike  king,  to  show  in  the  most  convincing 
way  that  lie  was  not  the  prince  of  war,  but  the 
prince  of  peace.  And  if,  now.  we  are  to  overcome 
evil  with  good,  we  must  not  begin  by  attacking  it 
witli  evil.  "  Love  your  enemies,  bless  them  who 
curse  you,  do  good  to  those  who  despitefully  use 
you  and  persecute  you,"  is  as  much  the  Christian 
duty  now  as  then.  We  must  not  resist  wrong  with 
wrong,  but  we  must  resist  it  with  right. 

And  certainly  the  real  Jesus,  the  Jesus  of  his- 


3  34  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

tory,  was  anything  but  a  mediaeval  saint,  with  head 
bowed  down  like  a  bulrush.  He  was  not  at  all  like 
a  sheep  dumb  before  its  shearers.  His  short  career 
was  passed  amid  a  storm  of  opposition,  which  he 
faced  with  a  manly  courage  of  the  highest  order. 
He  exposed  the  hypocrisy  of  the  Pharisees,  and  en- 
countered all  their  rage  alone.  Alone,  for  he  had 
no  one  to  understand  him,  no  one  on  whom  he  could 
lean.  Yet  he  went  straight  forward  on  his  appointed 
course,  without  hesitation,  opposed  by  all  parties,  — 
Scribes  and  Pharisees,  whose  power  was  threatened 
by  his  influence  ;  Saclducees,  whose  worldliness  was 
rebuked  by  his  lofty  morality ;  Herod  and  his  fol- 
lowers, to  whom  the  name  of  any  Messiah  was  a 
danger ;  the  mass  of  Jewish  zealots,  who  hated  Pome, 
because  he  preached  forgiveness  to  enemies  and  a 
peaceful  kingdom.  Amid  all  tins  tumultuous  tem- 
pest of  ill-will,  he  went  straight  forward,  foreseeing 
his  death  at  hand,  but  determined  to  do  his  work, 
and  declaring  with  his  last  breath  that  he  was  in- 
deed a  king,  since  he  had  come  to  bear  witness  tc 
God's  truth.  There  certainly  has  never  been  greater 
courage  than  this.  And  the  reason  that  we  do  not 
notice  it  is  that  in  the  wonderful  harmony  of  that- 
divine  character  no  one  trait  is  ever  prominent,  but 
always  one  is  balanced  by  its  opposite, — courage  by 
prudence,  humility  by  self-reliance,  tenderness  by 
firmness,  love  to  God  by  love  to  man.1 

1  Since  this  lecture  was  delivered,  an  excellent  book  developing 
tin-  same  idea  has  been  written  by  Thomas  Hughes,  called  "The 
.Manliness  of  Jesus." 


THE   EDUCATION  OF  COURAGE.  335 

Nor  has  there  ever  walked  on  this  planet  a  braver 
man  than  Paul.  He,  also,  passed  his  life  amid  op- 
position Loth  from  foes  and  friends.  The  other 
apostles  could  not  understand  the  breadth  of  his 
view,  and  had  no  sympathy  with  his  liberal  Chris- 
tianity; so  that  he,  also,  was  almost  alone,  hardly 
ever  understood.  How  touching  is  his  account  of 
his  career:  "In  journeyings  often;  in  perils  of  wa- 
ters, in  perils  of  robbers,  in  perils  by  mine  own 
countrymen,  in  perils  by  the  heathen,  in  perils  in 
the  city,  in  perils  in  the  wilderness,  in  perils  in  the 
sea,  in  perils  among  false  brethren,  in  weariness  and 
painfulness,  in  watchings  often,  in  hunger  and  thirst, 
in  fastings  often,  in  cold  and  nakedness.  Besides 
those  things  that  are  without,  that  which  cometh 
upon  me  daily,  the  care  of  all  the  churches."  And 
yet,  I  suppose  that  the  greatest  courage  of  all  was 
when  lie  was  obliged  to  oppose  the  Apostle  Peter  to 
his  face,  and  accuse  him  of  dissimulation  at  Antioch, 
and  sii  probably  to  offend  mortally  all  the  followers 
and  friends  of  that  apostle.  No  wonder  he  said  to- 
ward the  end  of  his  life,  "  I  have  fought  a  good 
light !  "  Did  Hannibal  or  Napoleon  ever  show  more 
courage  than  he  '. 

One  reason  why  Christianity  has  not  been  thought 
favorable  to  courage  is,  as  we  have  said,  that  we  still 
believe,  more  or  less,  in  the  mediaeval  type  of  Chris- 
tianity, which  made  it  passive,  not  active  ;  submis- 
sive, not  aggressive;  a  life  of  humble  endurance,  not 
an  energetic  assault  on  evil. 


336  SELF-CULTURE. 

And  another  reason  is  that  Christianity  is  reall}7 
opposed  to  a  great  deal  which  passes  for  courage. 
It  opposes  caution  to  rashness,  sensibility  to  in- 
sensibility, modesty  to  boldness,  and  reverence  to 
audacity. 

For  rashness  is  not  courage.  Rashness  flings  itself 
into  danger  without  consideration  or  foresight.  But 
courage  counts  the  cost,  and  does  not  make  any  dis- 
play of  itself,  but,  when  the  hour  comes,  is  prepared 
to  meet  it. 

Xor  is  insensibility  to  clanger  the  same  as  cour- 
age. Insensibility  is  a  brute  quality,  not  a  manly 
one.  It  comes  from  ignorance,  stupidity,  want  of 
imagination,  or  habit.  There  is  no  courage  in  en- 
countering peril  which  we  do  not  see,  in  going  into 
danger  of  which  we  have  no  feeling.  The  surest 
test  of  courage,  presence  of  mind,  cannot  coexist 
witli  brute  insensibility.  The  sense  of  fear  is  neces- 
sary to  all  real  courage.  He  who  says,  "  I  was  never 
afraid,-'  says  at  the  time,  "  I  have  no  real  bravery." 
Xot  to  be  destitute  of  fear,  but  to  be  able  to  control 
it.  to  be  self-possessed  in  the  midst  of  danger,  —  this 
alone  makes  the  real  hero.  The  sense  of  danger  is 
at  the  heart  of  all  sublime  courage,  all  heroic  self- 
devotion.  Montaigne  tells  us  of  a  king  of  Navarre 
who,  when  his  attendants  were  arming  him  for 
battle,  was  trembling  witli  excitement;  and  they 
tried  to  compose  him  by  saying  that  the  danger 
would  not  be  very  great.  But  he  answered:  "You 
understand  me  very  little  ;  for,  could  my  body  know 


THE   EDUCATION   OF   COURAGE.  3o7 

the  danger  ray  courage  will  presently  cany  it  into, 
it  would  sink  down  to  the  ground." 

Nor  is  audacity  courage.  That  boldness  of  mari- 
ne]' which  is  affected  by  coarse  minds,  that  over- 
bearing assumption  which  seeks  to  carry  all  before 
it  by  an  air  of  defiance,  is  seldom  able  to  stand  up 
before  true  courage.  True  manliness  is  modest,  not 
audacious.  It  makes  no  pretence,  utters  no  threats, 
but,  when  the  time  comes,  it  speaks  and  acts  with 
power.  There  is  a  power  in  its  eye  before  which 
audacity  break's  down.  They  tell  a  story  of  General 
Jackson,  who,  when  he  was  a  judge,  was  holding  a 
court  in  some  small  settlement.  One  of  the  despe- 
radoes, who  then  were  often  to  be  found  in  the  West, 
a  border-ruffian  and  murderer,  came  into  the  court- 
room with  brutal  violence  and  interrupted  its  pro- 
ceedings. The  judge  ordered  him  to  be  removed. 
But,  as  he  was  a  desperate  man,  and  armed  to  the 
teeth,  the  officer  hesitated  to  arrest  him.  "Call  a 
posse,"  said  the  judge,  "and  arrest  him."  But  those 
who  were  called  also  shrank  from  attacking  the  ruf- 
fian, "(.'all  me,  then,"  said  Jackson.  "This  court 
is  adjourned  for  live  minutes  ;"  and,  going  directly 
to  the  man,  ordered  him  to  drop  his  weapons,  which, 
after  a  moment's  doubt,  he  did,  afterward  saying, 
"  There  was  something  in  his  eye  that  I  could  not 
resist."     This  was  true  courage  conquering  audacity. 

All  these  other  qualities  which  pass  tor  courage 
—  rashness,  insensibility  to  danger,  audacity,  bold- 
ness —  are  natural ;  but  true  courage  is  an  accom- 


338  SELF-CULTURE. 

plishment.  It  is  acquired  by  discipline  and  educa- 
tion. It  consists  in  self-possession,  self-control, 
presence  of  mind,  and  devotion  to  what  is  true  and 
good.  It  lias  its  root  in  conscience.  It  is  said  by 
Shakspeare  that  "  conscience  make  cowards  of  us 
all ; "  but  when  it  makes  us  fear  evil,  it  lifts  us 
above  all  other  fear.  Conscience  in  the  soul  is  a 
fortress  which  no  power  of  man  can  conquer.  It 
lifted  poor,  cowardly  Peter,  who  had  just  denied  his 
Master,  to  that  height  of  heroism  that  he  could  say 
to  the  assembled  court  of  his  nation :  "  Whether  it 
be  right  in  the  sight  of  God  to  hearken  unto  you 
more  than  unto  God,  judge  ye.  For  we  cannot  but 
speak  the  things  we  have  heard  and  seen."  It  has 
enabled  women  and  children,  in  all  ages,  to  endure 
a  martyr's  death,  when  one  word  would  have  saved 
their  lives.  Conscience  in  the  soul  is  the  root  of  all 
true  courage.  If  a  man  would  be  brave,  let  him 
learn  to  obey  his  conscience. 

The  love  of  truth,  also,  is  associated  with  courage. 
He  who  loves  truth  desires  to  utter  it,  whether  men 
will  hear  or  whether  they  will  forbear.  He  has 
what  is  called  the  courage  of  his  opinions.  Truth, 
strong  in  itself,  makes  men  strong.  A  clear  convic- 
tion in  the  mind  gives  strength  and  courage  to  the 
weakest  person.  He  who  believes  in  the  eternal 
laws  of  the  universe;  who  does  not  believe  in  chance 
or  luck,  but  in  reason  ;  who  therefore  pursues  with 
unfaltering  step  the  flying  footsteps  of  truth,  —  he 
is  lifted  above  fear.     Some  men   have  this  belief  in 


THE   EDUCATION   OF  COL' RAGE.  339 

truth,  in  fact,  in  reality,  so  strong  that  they  trust 
themselves  to  their  convictions,  and  are  safe.  They 
stand  firm  on  their  instincts. 

We  must,  however,  admit  that  rashness  often 
takes  the  color  of  courage  in  the  domain  of  thought. 
It  is  now  common  to  talk  of"  brave  thinkers,"  mean- 
ing by  this  merely  those  who  are  ready  to  deny  all 
received  truths,  and  accept  anything  which  is  un- 
usual. Because  courageous  thinkers  are  often  her- 
etics, and  are  obliged  to  oppose  the  common  belief, 
it  is  assumed  that  any  one  who  opposes  the  common 
belief  becomes  thereby  a  courageous  thinker.  Be- 
cause most  men  receive,  without  inquiry,  all  tradi- 
tional belief,  many  think  it  brave  to  reject  all 
traditional  belief  without  inquiry.  I  often  receive 
newspapers  published  in  the  interest  of  freedom 
of  thought.  The  honest  men  who  publish  them 
announce  that  the  object  of  their  periodical  is  to 
oppose  received  views,  whether  in  religion,  morals, 
family  lii'e,  finance,  labor.  They  simply  propose 
to  abolish  the  Christian  religion,  do  away  with 
wages,  overturn  the  banking  system,  make  it  un- 
lawful to  take  interest  on  money,  and  put  an  end 
to  marriage.  Having  accomplished  this,  they  will 
then  look  round  for  something  else  to  do,  and  end 
by  requesting  a  subscription  of  twenty-live  cents  for 
their  journal.  These  writers  seriously  believe  them- 
selves to  be  "advanced  thinkers."  They  mistake 
rashness  for  courage,  denial  for  discovery,  sweeping 
criticism  for  thorough  examination. 


340  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

Such  errors,  however,  soon  cure  themselves.  They 
should  not  make  us  suspicious  of  free  inquiry,  for  the 
world  cannot  move  forward  except  by  the  fullest  and 
freest  examination.  The  education  of  courage  is  to 
be  faithful  to  our  convictions  and  our  duties  in  small 
things.  Peter  was  courageous  enough  to  draw  his 
sword  to  defend  his  Master,  but  not  courageous 
enough  to  encounter  the  ridicule  of  the  soldiers  and 
the  handmaidens  in  the  priest's  hall.  As  much 
courage  is  shown  by  a  child  who  tells  the  truth, 
when  it  is  hard  to  do  so,  as  by  a  soldier  going  into 
battle.  If  we  would  be  brave  on  great  occasions, 
we  must  begin  by  being  courageous  in  small  ones. 
If  you  do  not  fear  ridicule,  unpopularity,  or  being 
called  singular,  you  will  be  prepared  to  encounter 
the  gallows  or  stake,  if  those  should  be  necessary. 
He  who  is  faithful  in  little  will  be  faithful  also  in 
much. 

The  conventionalities  of  society  educate  us  to 
cowardice.  To  most  of  us  it  may  be  said,  as  in  the 
play :  "  Thou  art  a  blessed  fellow  to  think  as  every 
one  thinks.  Xot  a  man's  thought  in  the  world 
keeps  the  roadway  better  than  thine."  A  breeze  of 
free  thought  coming  into  a  church,  a  drawing-room, 
or  a  political  convention  makes  the  air  pure  for  a 
long  time. 

We  all  shrink,  like  cowards,  from  new  duties, 
new  responsibilities.  We  do  not  venture  to  go  out 
of  the  beaten  track  of  our  daily  life.  Close  to  us, 
on  each  side  of  the  road,    are  those  whom  we  might 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  COURAGE.  341 

help  or  save  with  one  good  action,  one  kind  word. 
But  we  are  afraid.  We  say:  "1  am  not  prepared; 
I  am  not  ready;  I  have  not  time;  1  am  not  quali- 
fied; find  some  better  person;  send  some  one  else." 
Perhaps  we  have  only  one  talent,  and,  therefore,  in- 
stead of  using  it,  we  hide  it,  and  when  the  Master 
comes  we  shall  meet  him  with  the  old  answer  :  "  I 
was  afraid,  and  went  and  hid  thy  talent  in  the 
earth.     Lo  !  there  thou  hast  that  is  thine." 

Therefore,  that  conscience  may  act  freely,  let  us 
add  to  it  faith.  If  the  Lord  calls  us  to  do  any  good 
thing,  let  us  believe  that  he  will  give  us  strength 
with  which  to  accomplish  it.  lie  strong  in  the 
Lord,  and  in  the  power  of  his  might.  Wait  on  the 
Lord,  and  he  will  strengthen  thine  heart.  This 
simple  trust  in  God  turns  cowards  into  heroes; 
takes  away  all  fear ;  gives  a  calm  confidence,  and 
enables  one  to  go  to  the  most  difficult  and  danger- 
ous tasks  with  hope  and  assurance.  The  Puritans 
in  England,  who  trusted  in  God,  beat  the  Cavaliers 
on  every  held.  Wesley  was  amazed  at  the  calm- 
ness of  the  Moravian  women  in  the  midst  of  an 
awful  storm  at  sea ;  but  they  said,  "  Why  should 
we  fear;1  We  trust  in  God."  "The  Lord  is  my 
salvation,  whom  shall  I  fear  ?  the  Lord  is  the 
strength  of  my  life,  of  whom  shall  I  be  afraid  ?" 

This  is  the  way  to  cultivate  courage  :  First,  In- 
standing  linn  on  some  conscientious  principle,  some 
law  of  duty.  Xext,  by  being  faithful  to  truth  and 
right  on  small  occasions  and  common  events.    Third, 


342  SELF-CULTURE. 

by  trusting  in  God  for  help  and  power.     Such  is 
the  man 

"Whom  neither  shape  of  danger  can  dismay, 
Nor  thought  of  tender  happiness  betray  ; 
"Who,  not  content  that  former  worth  stand  fast, 
Looks  forward,  persevering  to  the  last, 
From  good  to  better,  daily  self-surpassed." 


XVI. 

ON   FINISHING   EVERYTHING;    OR, 
THE    TWO    EXTRA   PENNIES. 


XVI. 

ON     FINISHING     EVERYTHING ;     OR, 
THE    TWO    EXTRA    PENNIES. 


I  HAVE  always  specially  admired,  in  the  story  of 
the  Good  Samaritan,  the  closing  incident:  "On 
the  morrow,  when  he  departed,  he  took  out  two 
pence,  and  gave  it  to  the  host,  and  said,  Take  care 
of  him,  and  whatsoever  thou  spendest  more,  when  I 
come  again  I  will  repay  thee." 

That  last  delicate  touch  given  to  the  portrait  of 
the  man  of  Samaria  marks  the  consummate  artist. 
It  completes  the  picture,  and  makes  it  perfect.  It 
suggests,  in  the  finest  fashion,  the  advance  from 
conscience  to  love.  It  shows  that  the  motive  of  the 
good  man  was  not  merely  to  do  his  duty,  though 
that  lay  at  the  root  of  his  conduct;  but  also  the  de- 
sire to  help  the  wounded  man,  and  to  help  him 
thoroughly  and  effectually.  Here  is  the  superiority 
of  love  over  conscience  in  human  affairs.  If  Tarn 
only  trying  to  do  my  duty  to  my  neighbor,  I  may 
say,  "  How  much  must  I  do  ?"  which  means,  ''How 
little  may   I   be  allowed  to  do?"     Rut,  if  I  love,  I 


3-46  SELF-CULTURE. 

say,  "  How  much  can  I  do  ?  What  more  ?  What 
next  ?  "  "  Love,"  says  the  Apostle,  "  beareth  all 
things,  believeth  all  things,  hopeth  all  tilings,  en- 
dureth  all  tilings.'"  It  works  without  any  limits 
except  the  outward  limits  of  occasion  and  oppor- 
tunity. It  is  like  a  fire,  which  burns  as  long  as 
there  is  anything  to  bum.  When  it  has  done  all, 
it  still  considers  itself  an  unprofitable  servant,  and 
says,  "  I  have  not  done  half  I  should  like  to  do." 

It  is  this  little  surplus,  this  unnecessary  but 
lovely  finishing  touch,  which  makes  the  perfection 
of  character.  Without  it,  excellence  may  be  hard, 
cold,  and  mechanical.  The  beauty  of  holiness  comes 
with  the  unexpected  gift  which  no  one  had  any 
right  to  claim,  —  the  two  pennies  extra,  —  which 
add  the  completing  charm  to  the  beauty  of  holi- 
ness. 

The  late  Henry  Ware  told  me  that,  when  he  went 
to  Europe,  he  took  many  letters  of  introduction. 
But,  after  delivering  one  or  two,  he  made  no  fur- 
ther use  of  them :  for  he  found  that,  when  he 
brought  a  letter  of  introduction,  all  that  was  done 
for  him  was  done  from  a  sense  of  duty.  The  man 
who  received  it  looked  embarrassed,  and  seemed  to 
l>e  saying  to  himself,  "  How  much  am  1  obliged  to 
do  for  this  gentleman?  How  little  will  answer?" 
Afterwards,  instead  of  handing  his  letters,  he  called 
and  introduced  himself,  saying,  "  I  am  an  American  ; 
I  have  heard  of  you  in  America,  and  wished  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you."     Then  the  personage  so  ad- 


THE    TWO    EXTRA    PENNIES.  347 

dressed  felt  free  to  do  as  much  or  as  little  as  he 
liked,  and  generally  liked  to  do  a  good  deal. 

I,  myself,  had  such  an  experience  once.  On  the 
summit  of  the  Flegere,  a  mountain  which  one  as- 
cends in  order  to  view  Mont  Blanc  and  his  surround- 
ing glaciers  and  peaks,  I  met  an  English  gentleman, 
and  fell  into  conversation  with  him.  He  found  1 
was  interested  in  pictures,  and  made  me  promise  to 
visit  him,  on  my  return  to  London,  and  see  his  pri- 
vate collection  of  the  works  of  Turner  a-nd  other 
modern  artists.  I  did  so,  and  he  devoted  whole 
days  to  showing  me  galleries  which  I  could  not 
otherwise  have  seen.  He  felt  toward  me  exactly 
as  the  good  Samaritan  felt  toward  the  Jew  of 
Jerusalem  when  lie  took  out  the  two  pence,  and 
said,  "  Take  the  best  care  of  him  ;  I  will  he  respon- 
sible." 

All  excellence  of  character  begins  in  conscience 
and  the  sense  of  duty.  That  is  the  deep  root  which 
is  indispensable  to  its  life  and  growth.  Any  benev- 
olence which  rests  only  on  sentiment  is  like  a  tree 
without  a  root.  Sooner  or  later  it  dries  up  and  is 
withered.  The  storm  will  blow  it  down.  Neverthe- 
less, unless  we  have  something  more  than  a  root, 
our  tree  is  not  a  tree.  It  must  grow  up  out  of  the 
rout  into  the  stalk,  leaf,  flower,  fruit;  that  is,  out  of 
conscience  into  love. 

As  there  is  no  beauty  to  a  root,  as  all  the  beauty 
of  a  plant  is  in  its  stalk,  leaf,  flower,  so  all  the 
beauty  of  a  good   action   resides  in  that  part  of  it 


348  SELF-CULTURE. 

which  is  spontaneous,  free,  and  loving.  What  at- 
tracts us  is  that.  I  feel  little  gratitude,  though  I 
may  feel  much  obligation,  to  a  man  who  helps  me 
from  a  sense  of  duty.  But  I  am  grateful,  above  all 
things  else,  for  love.  If  any  one  is  generous,  is 
kindly,  is  glad  to  distribute,  ready  to  communicate, 
he  attracts  all  hearts  to  himself.  Such  an  one 
makes  goodness  seem  really  good.  God,  it  is  said, 
loves  a  cheerful  giver,  and  love  is  always  cheerful. 
Man,  also,  loves  a  cheerful  giver.  No  one  likes  to 
see  good  done  gloomily,  grudgingly,  and  of  neces- 
sity. 

Jacob  Abbott,  whose  books  show  such  a  perfect 
knowledge  of  the  nature  of  children,  somewhere 
gives  these  four  rules  for  parents  :  — 

1.  When  you  refuse,  refuse  finally. 

2.  When  you  consent,  consent  cheerfully. 

3.  Often  commend. 

4.  Xever  scold. 

Children,  in  fact,  can  be  led  anywhere,  and  made 
to  do  anything,  by  those  whom  they  love.  They 
are  said  to  be  ungrateful ;  and  so  they  are  for  all 
that  is  done  for  them  from  duty;  all  the  usual 
regular  care  taken  of  them  they  accept  as  a  matter 
of  course.  But  only  do  something  unexpected  for 
their  happiness,  and  you  win  their  hearts.  Tell 
them  a  story,  take  them  to  see  a  sight,  do  anything 
for  them  which  shows  that  you  take  an  interest  in 
them  and  in  their  pleasure,  and  you  acquire  an  urn 
ounded  influence  over  them.     I  do  not  mean  that 


THE    TWO   EXTRA    PEWITS.  849 

you  are  not  to  be  firm  and  decided.  "  When  you 
refuse,  refuse  finally."  Do  not  say,  "Well,  my  dear, 
1  think,  on  the  whole,  you  had  better  not  go  out. 
I'll  think  of  it,  and  perhaps  I'll  let  you  go  by  and 
by.  I  am  afraid  you  will  take  cold.  I  had  rather 
not  have  you  go  ;  but,  if  you  insist  on  it,  I  suppose 
you  must."  Do  not  say  that,  but  either  say  "Xo," 
and  end  there,  or  else  say  "Yes,  if  you  wrap  your- 
self up,  it  will  be  all  right,  and  I  hope  you  will 
have  a  pleasant  time." 

These  are  the  two  extra  pennies  which  constitute 
a  large  part  of  the  joy  and  good  of  life. 

Some  people  fail  from  attempting  so  much,  and 
never  accomplishing  anything.  Finishing  a  thing, 
doing  it  thoroughly  before  we  begin  anything  else, 
is  very  important  to  our  own  happiness  and  the 
good  of  others.  "The  end  crowns  the  work,"  said 
the  practical  Romans.  Better  to  finish  one  small 
enterprise  than  to  leave  many  large  ones  half  done. 

Nature  finishes  everything,  and  that  makes  a 
large  part  of  her  charm.  Every  little  flower  is  per- 
fect and  complete,  from  root  to  seed.  Every  leaf 
which  will  open  in  the  next  spring-time  will  have 
its  little  ribs  and  edges  as  exactly  and  completely 
finished  as  if  it  were  the  only  leaf  God  intended  to 
make  in  the  whole  year. 

Let  us  learn  to  do  everything  as  well  as  we  can. 
That  turns  life  into  art.  The  least  thing,  thoroughly 
well  done,  becomes  artistic.  It  is  a  fine  art  to  walk 
perfectly  well,  not  in  the  heavy,  mechanical  way  in 


350  SELF-CULTURE. 

which  most  of  us  walk.  It  is  a  fine  art  to  speak 
well,  to  articulate  distinctly,  to  pronounce  correctly, 
to  use  the  right  word  and  not  the  wrong  one.  Any- 
thing complete,  rounded,  full,  exact,  gives  pleasure; 
anything  slovenly,  slip-shod,  unfinished,  is  dis- 
couraging. 

It  is  said  of  Washington  Allston  that  once  having 
dressed  for  a  party,  and  being  on  his  way  to  it,  he 
suddenly  stopped  because  he  remembered  that  there 
was  something  out  of  order  in  his  dress,  which  no 
one  would  see.  But  he  himself  would  know  that 
the  defect  was  there.  That  was  enough.  He  went 
home,  and  gave  up  his  visit  rather  than  go  in  a 
slovenly  costume. 

This  may  have  been  an  extreme  instance  of  the 
artistic  feeling  of  the  perfect.  That,  in  this  artist, 
this  sense  of  perfection  outweighed  the  power  of 
production,  appears  from  the  fact  that  he  was  never 
able  to  finish  the  picture  which  was  to  be  his 
masterpiece.  He  left  it,  after  many  years  of  labor, 
in  an  incomplete  state.  I  lis  ideal  was  so  high  that 
it  palsied  his  hand.  He  could  never  satisfy  himself. 
This  is  one  danger.  The  sense  of  the  perfect,  the 
complete,  may  prevent  us  from  doing  anything, 
because  we  cannot  do  as  well  as  we  can  imagine 
and  conceive.  This  often  becomes  a  real  drawback 
no  goodness.  Because  1  cannot  do  a  work  as  well 
as  it  ought  to  lie  done,  I  do  nothing.  Because  I 
cannot  help  the  poor,  the  suffering,  the  sinful,  as 
much  as  they  need  to  be  helped,  I  do  nothing.    This 


THE    TWO   EXTRA    PEN XI EH.  351 

is  an  error  on  the  other  side.  I  once  heard  Dr. 
Tuekerman,  the  first  in  inister-at -large  in  Boston, 
describing  the  case  of  a  family  of  which  the  husband 
and  father  was  an  intemperate  man.  Dr.  Tuekerman 
said  that  he  had  never  been  able  to  make  him  leave 
off  drinking  entirely.  But  he  had  succeeded  in 
inducing  him  to  stop  for  weeks  at  a  time.  Said  he. 
"  If  I  could  not  do  more,  I  was  glad  to  do  that.  It 
was  a  great  thing  for  his  family  that  he  should 
abstain  for  many  weeks  together.  A  few  weeks  of 
comfort  and  peace  were  worth  a  great  deal  to 
them." 

Nevertheless,  an  important  part  of  culture  is  to 
acquire  the  habit  of  finishing  every  work.  Work 
which  is  not  finished  is  not  work  at  all.  The  differ- 
ence between  active  work  and  active  idleness  lies 
just  at  this  point.  Idleness  begins  many  things 
with  vast  energy  and  enthusiasm  ;  but  becomes  dis- 
couraged, soon  tires,  and  leaves  its  employment  half 
done  to  begin  something  else.  Work  does  not  stop 
till  it  has  completed  its  task. 

This  want  of  fixed  purpose  you  will  often  notice 
in  children  before  they  have  formed  the  habit  of 
labor.  Watch  a  boy  on  his  holiday.  He  has  deter- 
mined to  make  something  or  do  something.  He 
thinks  he  will  dig  his  garden  all  over.  lie  begins 
with  great  energy,  but  soon  becomes  tired  of  this 
hard  work.  It  occurs  to  him  that  he  wants  to  make 
a  boat.  He  drops  the  spade,  and  goes  to  the  tool- 
house.      Hut   after  he   has   worked    with  chisel  and 


352  SELF-CULTURE. 

saw  and  knife  for  half  an  hour,  this  task  also  be- 
comes uninteresting,  and  lie  decides  that  what  he 
really  wishes  is  to  read  his  new  book.  lie  reads  for 
a  while,  and  then  concludes  that  it  is  best  to  go 
iishing.  So  the  day  is  frittered  away,  and  nothing 
is  accomplished.  AYorse,  there  remains  in  the  even- 
ing a  weariness  born  of  this  irresolution,  and  the 
absence  of  results. 

A  good  deal  of  the  happiness  of  life  comes  from 
the  sense  of  accomplishment.  God  has  mixed  a 
feeling  of  content  with  everything  finished.  Every 
one  enjoys  an  accomplishment.  If  you  have  half 
learned  two  or  three  languages,  you  take  little 
pleasure  in  them ;  but  if  you  have  learned  one,  so 
as  to  read  or  speak  it  easily,  this  accomplishment 
brings  pleasure.  A  man  who  has  learned  to  do 
anything  well,  enjoys  doing  it.  This  is  the  lure 
which  wise  Nature  uses  to  lead  us  to  finish  our 
work. 

One  advantage  of  sending  children  to  school  is 
that  they  can  be  kept  in  their  classes  at  one  study 
till  they  have  really  learned  something.  What  a 
pleasure  to  a  child  when  he  has  learned  his  alphabet 
or  his  multiplication-table  ;  when  he  has  mastered 
his  geography,  so  as  to  really  know  the  countries  of 
Europe,  Asia,  and  America ;  when  he  has  become 
familiar  with  the  history  of  some  nations ;  when  he 
can  read  with  ease  a  Latin  book  or  a  French  one  ; 
when  he  can  write  a  neat  and  legible  hand  !  There- 
fore, a  wise  teacher  prefers  to  teach  his  classes  a  few 


Till:    TWO   EXTRA    PENNIES.  606 

things  thoroughly,  rather  than  many  things  imper- 
fectly. For  everything  perfectly  learned  is  a  spur 
to  further  acquisition  ;  while  all  cloudiness  and  con- 
fusion left  in  the  pupil's  mind  discourages  him,  and 
takes  away  the  nerve  for  study. 

Nor  do  1  object  to  giving  prizes  for  the  Lest  work 
done,  for  it  leads  persons  to  do  their  best,  and  exer- 
cises them  in  aiming  at  perfection. 

It  is  a  great  thing  for  a  young  person  to  recog- 
nize the  charm  of  perfect  work,  finish,  complete- 
ness. It  is  a  celestial  inspiration  which  lifts  the 
soul  above  worldly  vanities  and  low  ambitions,  and 
will  ennoble  the  whole  of  lii'e.  Not  to  do  merely 
what  others  do,  not  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  the 
world,  but  to  aim  at  an  ideal  good,  makes  true 
manhood. 

At  this  point,  the  highest  human  wisdom  joins 
hands  with  the  best  religious  teaching.  All  human 
greatness  is  the  result  of  patient  continuance  in 
well-doing;  of  earnest,  noble  endeavor;  of  extraor- 
dinary generous  seeking.  And  what  does  the  New 
Testament  continually  teach,  but  that  we  should 
endeavor  to  be  perfect  as  our  father  in  heaven  is 
perfect  ;  not  to  pray,  nor  to  give  alms,  nor  to  do  any 
good  work,  to  be  seen  of  men  ;  but  privately,  secretly, 
to  be  seen  of  God.  Always  we  are  to  bear  about  in 
our  heart  the  pure  ideal  which  we  pursue,  never 
condescending  to  anything  below  our  best  stand- 
ard of  right.  The  power  of  Christianity  shows 
itself  in  taking  the  humblest  souls,  and  filling 
2:5 


354  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

them  with  this  purpose  of  infinite  good.  A  poet 
has  said :  — 

"  A  vast  idea  rolls 
Before  me,  and  therefrom  I  glean 
My  liberty." 

We  are  sot  free  from  all  lower  influence  when  we 
accept  the  control  of  this  commanding  beauty. 

Much  of  the  joy  of  life  consists  in  doing  well 
everything  which  we  do.  AVe  have  no  real  satisfac- 
tion in  our  work  until  we  have  given  the  extra  two 
pence,  and  so  completed  it.  If  the  Samaritan  had 
gone  away  without  doing  that,  he  would  have  been 
dissatisfied  with  himself.  He  would  have  said,  "I 
have  taken  a  good  deal  of  trouble  about  that  man, 
but,  perhaps,  it  will  end  in  nothing.  The  innkeeper 
may  turn  him  into  the  street,  and  so  all  my  pains 
will  be  thrown  away."  But  he  finished  his  good 
action,  and  left  it  perfect  behind  him,  for  an  ever- 
lasting joy  and  blessing  to  mankind. 

This  is  why  the  Xew  Testament  lays  so  much 
stress  on  finishing  every  good  work.  It  tells  us  not 
to  be  weary  in  well-doing,  for  in  due  season  we 
shall  reap,  if  we  faint  not.  "AVe  are  the  house  of 
Christ,  if  we  hold  fast  the  confidence,  and  the  re- 
joicing of  hope  unto  the  end."  "  If  any  man  draw 
back,  my  soul  shall  have  no  pleasure  in  him." 

Love  to  God  and  love  to  man  are  the  only  motives 
which  will  last.  We  must  take  a  real  interest  in 
those  we  do  anything  for,  in  order  not  to  get  tired  of 


THE    TWO   EXTRA    PENNIES.  355 

our  work.  Some  ministers  get  tired  of  their  parishes 
after  they  have  been  with  them  a  year  or  two,  and 
are  always  changing.  It  is  often  because  they  do 
not  take  an  interest  in  the  work  and  in  the  people 
for  their  own  sake. 

When  a  man  says,  "  T  have  done  my  part,  now  let 
some  one  else  come  and  take  my  place,"  it  is  evi- 
dent he  never  really  was  interested  in  what  he  was 
doing. 

Let  us  all  enlist  for  the  war.  Let  us  never  be 
contented  to  give  up  any  good  work  until  nothing 
remains  but  to  take  out  the  two  pence  and  give  to 
the  host ;  and  so  to  make  arrangements  that  the 
work  shall  go  on  well  after  we  have  gone  away.  I 
do  not  recollect  that  I  ever  heard  a  mother  watching 
by  her  sick  child,  a  wife  watching  by  her  sick  hus- 
band, say,  "I  have  been  here  three  days  and  nights. 
I  think  I  have  done  about  my  share  of  watching  ; 
let  some  one  else  come  and  take  my  place."  No! 
but  the  divine  power  of  love  supplies  new  strength 
to  mind  and  body,  enables  her  to  go  without  rest, 
without  sleep,  and  she  never  thinks  for  a  moment  of 
giving  up  her  place  to  another  as  long  as  anything 
remains  to  be  done. 

Perfect  honesty,  in  like  manner,  is  never  satisfied 
with  doing  as  much  as  is  expected,  as  much  as 
is  customary.  After  it  has  done  that,  it  takes  out 
its  two  pence  and  gives  them  to  the  host.  This 
makes  a  man  who  has  been  released  from  a  debt, 
and  who  is   afterward   able  to   pay   it,  pay  all  the 


;'.  o  G  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

interest  with  it.  Such  completeness  shows  that  it 
is  because  lie  loves  honesty,  not  because  he  wishes 
to  appear  honest.  It  is  the  same  with  truth.  A 
perfectly  truthful  man,  who  loves  truth  for  its  own 
sake,  is  not  contented  with  being  as  truthful  as 
other  people.  He  wishes  to  be  entirely  accurate,  — 
to  have  truth  in  the  inward  parts,  and  truth  in  its 
perfect  outward  utterance.  Dr.  Johnson  said,  "If 
your  boy  says  he  luoked  out  of  one  window  when 
he  looked  out  of  another,  give  him  a  whipping." 
We  have  outgrown  whipping,  but  the  idea  is  still 
a  true  one.  This  is  the  "  two  pence  "  in  truth-tell- 
ing which  makes  it  perfect  and  entire,  wanting 
nothing.  It  is  the  distinction  of  modern  science 
that  it  loves  truth  in  this  way.  It  verifies  every- 
thing. I  have  a  book,  published  about  two  hundred 
years  ago,  which  gives  the  scientific  notions  of  that 
day.  Among  other  statements,  it  tells  us  how  two 
people  may  correspond  at  a  distance  :  Take  two 
magnets  and  support  them  like  compass  needles,  so 
that  they  may  turn  freely,  each  around  a  card  circle. 
On  the  circumference  of  each  circle  write  the 
twenty-four  letters  of  the  alphabet.  Then,  if  a 
man  lias  one  of  these  magnetic  needles  and  cards  in 
Eome,  and  another  man  has  the  corresponding  one 
in  England,  and  they  wish  to  converse,  they  have 
only  to  turn  one  of  the  needles  so  that  it  will  point 
to  a  certain  letter,  and  the  other  will  turn  imme- 
diately to  the  same  letter.  The  only  difficulty  was 
that  the  author  had  not  taken  the  trouble  of  trying 


THE    TWO   EXTRA    PENNIES.  357 

the  experiment,  to  see  if  it  would  work.  The  chief 
difference  between  ancient  and  modern  science  is 
that  the  last  verifies  everything ;  that  is,  puts  truth 
into  it.  "Man,"  says  Lord  Bacon,  "the  minister 
and  interpreter  of  nature,  does  and  understands  as 
much  as  he  can  observe  of  the  order  of  things  or  of 
the  mind,  and  can  know  and  do  nothing  more."  To 
love  and  serve  the  truth,  and  to  surrender  to  it 
our  own  opinions,  makes  the  man  of  science.  To 
serve  and  love  beauty,  and  renounce  our  own  fame, 
makes  the  artist.  To  serve  and  love  goodness, 
and  forget  our  own  selfish  advantages,  makes  the 
Christian. 

If  in  man  justice  is  to  be  swallowed  up  in  love, 
how  much  more  in  God!  If  our  goodness  consists 
not  in  doing  what  strict  justice  requires,  but  a  great 
deal  more,  how  far  beyond  any  mere  justice  must 
the  divine  love  go  !  If  the  charm  in  men  and 
women  which  makes  us  love  them  is  in  this  super- 
fluity of  good- will,  this  giving  all  they  have  and 
doing  all  they  can,  how  can  we  love  God  unless  we 
see  the  same  element  in  him  ?  We  are  the  poor 
traveller,  wounded  by  our  sins,  left  half-dead  in  our 
helplessness  and  loneliness,  with  no  power  to  do 
anything  for  ourselves.  God  is  not  like  the  priest 
nor  like  the  Levite.  He  does  not  come  and  look  on 
us.  and  then  pass  by.  He  does  not  say,  "  Do  this, 
do  that,  oi'  perish  forever."  He  knows  we  can  do 
nothing  till  he  helps  us  to  do  it,  and,  therefore,  like 
the  Good  Samaritan,  he  comes  to  us.     He  does  not 


ooS  SELF-CULTURE. 

wait  till  we  are  able  to  come  to  him.  He  comes  to 
every  one  of  us,  and  pours  some  oil  and  wine  into 
our  wounds.  Sometimes  the  oil  and  wine  consists 
in  human  sympathy  which  God  sends  to  us  in  our 
sorrow ;  human  love,  which  lie  sends  to  us  in  our 
loneliness.  Sometimes  it  is  an  opportunity  of  doing 
good  to  some  one  else  which  relieves  our  heart  of 
its  own  gloom.  God's  spirit  is  like  the  wind,  which 
comes  and  goes  a  thousand  ways,  running  on  no 
narrow  railway  track,  but  in  various  manners  softly 
breathing  around  us.  It  is  in  all  that  moves  the 
heart,  to  awaken  its  better  purposes,  and  to  make 
things  new  there. 

It  does  not  run  in  the  narrow  railway  track  of 
the  church  only  ;  the  means  of  grace  are  not  merely 
Sundays  and  sermons,  prayer-meetings  and  revivals  : 

"  Sometimes  a  light  surprises 
The  Christian  while  he  sings," 

and  sometimes  as  bright  and  sweet  a  light  surprises 
the  sinner  in  his  tears.  Sometimes  it  is  the  aspect 
of  nature,  the  heavenly  peace  of  a  summer's  day, 
the  innocent  face  and  voice  of  a  little  child  in  his 
play,  the  beauty  still  more.'  divine  on  the  face  of  our 
dead  friend  in  all  the  rapture  of  its  repose.  God  can 
speak  to  the  heart  by  anything,  —  by  a  weed,  a 
grain  of  sand,  a  dream.  He  "  who  rebuked  a  prophet 
by  the  voice  of  an  ass,  and  warned  his  apostle  by 
the  crowing  of  a  barn-door  fowl,"  can  make  the 
meanest  thing  the  channel  of  his  love. 


THE    TWO   EXTRA    PENNIES.  359 

Moreover,  if  God  finishes  everything  in  nature,  if 
he  is  the  consummate  artist  who  makes  the  rhodora 
beautiful  in  the  wood  where  no  human  eye  can  see 
it,  and  paints  in  exquisite  tints  the  shell  on  the 
floor  of  the  ocean,  we  may  trust  that  he  will  not 
rest  till  lie  has  made  all  our  souls  and  all  our  lives 
pure,  generous,  noble,  beautiful.  We  are  as  yet 
only  the  ugly  roots  of  a  future  beautiful  plant.  The 
best  man  or  woman  is  only  a  shoot  a  little  way  out 
of  the  ground.  We  are  God's  plants,  God's  flowers  ; 
be  sure  that  he  will  help  us  to  unfold  into  something 
serenely  fair,  nobly  perfect,  if  not  in  this  life,  then 
in  another.  If  lie  teaches  us  not  to  be  satisfied  till 
we  have  finished  our  work,  he  will  not  be  satisfied 
till  he  has  finished  his.  He  will  not  be  satisfied  with 
simply  binding  up  our  wounds,  by  leading  us  to 
repent,  with  simply  pouring  in  the  oil  and  wine  of 
his  forgiving  love.  He  will  also  set  us  on  his  own 
beast,  and  bring  us  to  the  inn,  and  take  care  of  us 
there  ;  and  if  he  seems  to  go  away  and  leave  us,  if 
his  spirit  sometimes  seems  to  disappear  again  out  of 
our  hearts,  he  will  have  left  the  two  pence  with  the 
host,  and  seen  to  it  that  all  that  we  need  we  shall 
certainly  have  at  last. 

If  we  can  believe  this  of  God,  then  we  can  love 
him  as  we  love  our  lather  and  mother,  as  we  love 
our  friend,  in  whose  answering  love  we  have  perfect 
confidence.  Such  a  confidence  in  God  as  this  is 
alone  the  source  of  genuine  piety.  Xot  till  we  cease 
thinking  of  him  as  justice,  as  power,  as  sovereign, 


360  SELF-CULTURE. 

as  king,  not  till  we  are  able  to  trust  in  him  as  one 
who  means  to  save  us  perfectly,  and  unfold  us  into 
all  the  strength  and  beauty  for  which  he  has  de- 
signed us,  can  we  love  him  with  all  our  heart,  and 
our  brother  man  like  ourselves. 


XVII. 
EDUCATION   OF   THE   WILL. 


xvn. 

EDUCATION   OF   THE   WILL. 


BEFORE  explaining  how  the  will  may  be  edu- 
cated, I  must  first  show  that  it  is  capable  of 
education.  Many  think  that  strength  of  will  is  a 
purely  constitutional  matter,  a  question  of  organiza- 
tion, a  natural  endowment.  Some  persons,  they 
say,  are  born  with  strong  wills,  and  they  carry 
everything  before  them;  others,  with  weak  wills, 
and  they  give  way  before  every  one  else.  Will,  so 
they  think,  is  only  a  matter  of  organization  and 
temperament. 

This  opinion  is  very  strongly  expressed  by  Mr. 
Emerson  in  an  essay  on  Power.  "  Success,"  he 
says,  "  is  a  constitutional  trait."  "  Courage  is  the 
degree  of  circulation  of  the  blood  in  the  arteries." 
"This  affirmative  force  is  in  one  and  not  in  another, 
as  one  horse  has  the  spring  in  himself,  and  another 
in  the  whip."  "When  one  has  a  plu*  of  health,  all 
difficulties  vanish  before  it."  "Success  is,  there- 
fore,  constitutional;  depends  on  a  plus  condition  of 
mind  and  body,  of  power  of  work,  on  courage,  and 
is  of  main  eflieacv  in  carrvinu'  on  the  world." 


364  SELF-CULTURE. 

It  is  very  certain,  I  readily  admit,  that  some 
men  are  born  with  great  force  of  will,  and  others 
with  weak  wills.  It  is  also  very  certain  that  you 
cannot,  by  any  amount  of  discipline,  of  education, 
make  an  Andrew  Jackson,  a  Napoleon,  a  Martin 
Luther,  out  of  a  man  born  with  a  feeble  will,  any  more 
than  you  can  make  a  piece  of  oak  timber  out  of  a 
pine  log.  Such  men  as  I  have  mentioned  were  cre- 
ated with  a  vast  amount  of  organic  force ;  and  that 
is  something  not  to  be  manufactured  by  any  school, 
any  training,  any  culture. 

But  the  point  is  here.  If  this  organic  strength, 
hidden  in  the  convolutions  of  the  brain,  and  in  the 
force  which  drives  the  blood  through  the  arteries,  is 
not  born  of  education,  may  there  not  be  another 
kind  of  force  of  will  which  can  be  thus  created  ? 
And  may  not  this  latter  kind  be  the  better  kind  ? 

We  have  seen,  in  our  past  lectures,  that  many 
other  human  powers  have  a  physical  basis  in  the 
organization,  but  also  a  moral  basis  in  the  soul. 
We  have  seen  that  there  is  a  physical  courage  and 
a  moral  courage  ;  a  natural  conscience  and  an  edu- 
cated conscience ;  a  good  nature,  located  in  the 
bodily  disposition  ;  and  a  good  temper,  which  comes 
from  culture  and  discipline.  There  arc  instinctive 
perceptive  powers,  ami  educated  powers  of  percep- 
tion. There  is  instinctive  reverence,  belonging  to 
the  organization;  and  an  educated  reverence,  which 
is  developed  by  conviction,  insight,  and  self-devo- 
tion to  the  highest  good.    Now,  we  ask,  "  Is  strength 


EDUCATION   OF    THE    WILL.  365 

of  will  also  of  two  kinds, — one  kind  natural,  or- 
ganic, instinctive,  belonging  to  the  brain  and  blood; 
and  the  other  the  growth  of  purpose,  culture,  dis- 
cipline, and  a  religions  conscience?"  I  think  it 
can  be  shown  that  there  are  these  two  kinds;  that 
strength  of  will  can  be  cultivated,  and  that  such  an 
educated  will  constitutes  a  greater  power  to  endure 
and  to  do,  than  that  which  merely  conies  from  the 
natural  organization. 

Mr.  Emerson  is  no  doubt  right  in  declaring  that 
there  is  a  constitutional  force  of  will  which  in- 
sures success.  But  success  does  not  come  merely 
from  constitutional  forces :  if  it  did,  the  savage 
would  not  retire  before  the  civilized  man.  Culture 
adds  a  new  force  to  nature.  The  early  white  set- 
tlers of  Kentucky  soon  became  more  than  a  match 
for  the  Indians  in  everything  wherein  the  Indian 
excelled.  They  learned  to  know  the  forest  signs  as 
well  as  the  Indian,  or  better;  they  became  better 
marksmen,  quicker  in  their  perceptions,  more  rapid 
in  their  actions;  and  in  a  struggle  hand  to  hand 
they  could  master  the  Indian.  Education  in  the 
white  man  had  added  a  force  to  nature.  Xor  is  it 
always  true,  thai  "  for  performance  of  great  mark  it 
needs  bodily  health  ;"  for  men  like  John  Calvin  and 
Robert  Hall,-  William  Pitt,  Pope,  and  William  of 
Orange,  King  of  England,  were  all  invalids,  and  all 
did  great  things.  ( )f  the  last,  Macaulay  says  :  "  From 
a  child  he  hail  been  weak  and  sickly.  In  the  prime 
of  manhood  his  complaints  were  aggravated  by  se- 


3  6  6  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

vere  disease.  His  slender  frame  was  shaken  by  a 
constant  cough.  Severe  headache  frequently  tor- 
tured him.  Exertion  soon  fatigued  him.  .  .  .  Yet, 
through  a  life  which  was  one  long  disease,  the  force 
of  his  mind  never  failed  to  bear  up  his  suffering  and 
languid  body."  Dr.  Johnson  makes  the  same  re- 
mark concerning  Pope,  that  "his  life  was  one  long 
disease."  The  incessant  labors  of  Calvin  were  pur- 
sued amid  continual  bodily  pain  and  ill-health.  Dr. 
Kane,  who  suffered  all  his  life  from  severe  maladies, 
was  one  of  the  most  active  explorers  of  our  day. 
He  climbed  the  Himalayas,  descended  into  an  un- 
explored crater  of  a  mighty  volcano,  ascended  the 
Xile  to  a  great  distance,  traversed  Greece  on  foot, 
studied  the  glaciers  in  Switzerland,  visited  Dahomey 
in  Africa,  fought  like  a  hero  in  the  Mexican  war, 
and  ended  his  career  by  the  immense  labor  and  ex- 
ertion of  his  Arctic  voyages.  Mr.  Emerson  is,  there- 
fore, not  wholly  correct  in  saying  that  '"'if  Eric  is  in 
robust  health,  has  slept  well,  and  is  thirty  years  old 
at  his  departure  from  Greenland,  he  will  reach  New- 
foundland. But  takeout  Eric,  and  put  in  a  stronger 
and  bolder  man,  and  the  ships  will,  with  just  as 
much  ease,  sail  six  hundred,  a  thousand,  fifteen 
hundred  miles  further."  "Sickness  is  poor-spirited, 
and  cannot  serve  any  one  ;  it  must  husband  its  re- 
sources to  live." 

Plutarch  tells  us  that  Julius  Cflesar,  the  greatest 
of  soldiers,  statesmen,  writers,  rulers,  "was  of  a 
slender   make,  fair,  of  a  delicate   constitution,  and 


EDUCATION  OF   THE    WILL.  367 

subject  to  violent  headaches  and  epilepsy."  But 
this  did  not  prevent  him  from  becoming'  the  master 
of  the  world. 

What,  then,  constitutes  strength  of  will  ?  It  is 
that  quality  of  the  mind  which  is  prompt  to  decide, 
and,  having  decided,  cannot  be  moved  from  its  pur- 
pose, but  holds  on  through  evil  report  and  good 
report;  overcomes  obstacles ;  shrinks  from  no  diffi- 
culty ;  relies  on  its  own  judgment ;  does  not  yield 
to  fashion,  —  and  so  presses  to  its  mark  always. 

Strength  of  wjll  is  the  power  to  resist,  to  persist, 
to  endure,  to  attack,  to  conquer  obstacles,  to  snatch 
success  from  the  jaws  of  death  and  despair.  It  is 
the  most  vital  element  in  character.  It  is  essential 
to  excellence  ;  for  of  him  who  has  it  not  it  must  be 
said,  "  I  nstable  as  water,  thou  shalt  not  excel."  A 
man  of  weak  will  is  at  the  mercy  of  the  last  opin- 
ion ;  is  unable  to  make  up  his  mind,  or,  having 
made  it  up,  to  keep  to  it.  lie  is  undecided,  and 
cannot  decide.  He  sees  the  right,  and  drifts  to- 
ward the  wrong.  He  determines  on  a  course  of 
conduct,  and  then  quits  it  on  the  first  temptation. 
"Weak  as  a  breaking  wave,  a  helpless  idler,  wax  to 
take  a  stamp  from  anything  stronger  than  himself, 
if  he  adopts  a  right  course,  it  is  only  by  accident ; 
and  if  he  is  virtuous,  it  is  only  a  piece  of  good 
luck. 

Some  races  are  gifted  by  nature  with  strong 
wills;  what  they  will,  they  will  powerfully;  what 
thev  do,  thev  do  with  determination.     Our  Yankees 


o(')S  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

inherit  this  trait  from  their  English  forefathers,  and 
the  stern  discipline  of  two  centuries  of  hardship  and 
struggle  have  strengthened  it.  Woe  to  the  child 
who  happens  to  be  born  with  a  weak  will  in  New 
England  !  His  is  the  fatal  error  in  all  eyes  in  our 
energetic  community.  To  be  inefficient  or  shiftless 
is  the  unpardonable  sin,  to  the  mind  of  a  born  New 
Englander. 

But  there  are  dangers  from  this  quality  of  will. 
Unless  guided  by  conscience,  it  becomes  wilfulness. 
It  makes  despots  and  tyrants,  and  there  are  tyrants 
in  all  circles  of  society.  Men  and  women  who  have 
will-power  in  excess  tyrannize  in  their  families,  in 
society,  in  business.  They  must  have  their  way  in 
everything;  they  must  always  take  the  lead.  They 
dogmatize,  and  are  overbearing  in  conversation  and 
among  their  associates.  They  have  too  much  confi- 
dence in  themselves  and  their  own  judgments,  and 
so  are  in  danger  of  making  grave  mistakes.  Failure 
and  ruin  may  come  from  too  much  will  as  well  as 
from  too  little.  Mere  strength,  unguided  ly  wis- 
dom, tends  to  destruction.  But  the  power  of  self- 
restraint,  self-denial,  renunciation  of  private  wishes 
before  a  great  commanding  good,  —  these  are  the 
secrets  of  the  highest  power.  Y\ 'hen  a  man  is  able 
to  rise  above  himself,  only  then  he  becomes  truly 
strong. 

We  have  had  an  illustration  of  the  two  kinds  of 
will  in  two  of  our  presidents,  —  General  Jackson  am] 
Abraham  Lincoln.     General  Jackson  was  gifted  bv 


EDUCATION   OE     THE    WILL.  309 

nature  with  immense  force  of  will.  It  made  him 
successful  in  war  and  public  life.  It  was  an  en- 
ergy which  few  could  resist.  It  brought  him  into 
innumerable  difficulties,  and  usually  brought  him 
out  of  them  triumphantly.  It  was  the  cause  of 
great  mistakes  and  great  successes.  His  independ- 
ence caused  him  to  refuse  to  vote  to  thank  Wash- 
ington for  his  services  as  President;  made  him  re- 
sist his  whole  party  in  his  opposition  to  the  United 
States  Bank,  and  carry  his  point,  in  spite  of  friends 
and  enemies ;  led  him  publicly  to  defend  Aaron 
Burr  when  he  was  on  trial,  though  he  had  before 
offered  his  services  to  the  Government  to  arrest 
him.  His  force  of  will  once  saved  his  arm,  which 
the  medical  men  had  determined  to  amputate.  It 
led  him  to  take  the  responsibility  without  fear, 
whether  he  was  right  or  wiring.  It  made  him  a 
great  general,  but  a  dangerous  President.  His 
strong  will  was  often  wilful,  and  guided  by  passion 
and  prejudice  more  than  by  reason. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  have  an  illustration  of  ed- 
ucated will  in  Abraham  Lincoln.  How  slowly,  how 
hesitatingly  he  moved  at  the  beginning  of  his  presi- 
dency !  Very  different  from  Jackson,  he  devolved 
responsibility  on  others,  leaving  to  soldiers  to  man- 
age the  war,  and  leaving  to  his  secretaries  full  power 
in  each  of  their  departments.  Though  always  op- 
posed to  slavery,  he  refused  to  pledge  himself  to 
take  any  active  steps  against  it  until  the  time 
seemed  fully  ripe.     Slow  to  decide,  when  he  had  de- 


370  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

cided  he  was  firm  as  a  rock  in  mid-ocean.  He 
weighed  beforehand  difficulty  and  opposition,  but 
never  shrank  from  them  when  they  came.  He 
carefully  counted  the  cost  before  he  acted ;  but 
when  he  decided  to  act,  all  his  hesitation  disap- 
peared. Far  inferior  to  Jackson  in  natural  strength 
of  will,  he  far  surpassed  him  in  the  firm  and  un- 
yielding pursuit  of  great  ends,  not  his  own,  by 
conscientious  means.  Jackson  was  a  mighty  power, 
going  like  a  cannon-ball  to  its  end,  — 

"  Shattering  that   it  may  reach,  and  shattering  what  it 
reaches." 

Lincoln's  force  was  that  of  a  river,  sure  to  reach 
the  ocean  at  last,  because  obeying  the  eternal  laws 
of  God,  but  winding  around  obstacles,  patiently 
lingering  along  savannahs  and  morasses,  never  stand- 
ing still,  never  forgetting  its  end.     His  was  the 

"  Supple-tempered  will, 
Which  bent,  like  perfect  steel,  to  spring  again  and  thrust." 

Jackson  was  lamest  no  less  than  Lincoln,  and 
both  were  illustrations  of  Horace's  "just  man,  tena- 
cious of  his  purpose,  who  fears  neither  the  rage  of 
the  people  nor  the  threats  of  the  tyrant."  Jack- 
son's career  was  like  that  of  a  wild  storm,  violent 
and  destructive,  though  sublime;  while  that  of  Lin- 
coln was  as  the  shining  auroral  light  of  a  near 
morning,  which  shines  more  and  more  unto  the  per- 
fect day. 


EDUCATION  OF    THE    WILL.  371 

Natural  force  of  will  differs  from  the  educated 
force  of  will  in  beiug  more  liable  to  lie  blinded  by 
passion  and  prejudice,  to  be  led  out  of  its  true 
course  by  caprice,  and  enslaved  by  personal  ambi- 
tion to  selfish  ends.  It  is  self-will  rather  than  free- 
will. Thus  blinded  by  egotism,  it  no  longer  acts 
according  to  the  eternal  laws,  and  plunges  into 
fatal  mistakes  and  ruin. 

The  man  in  modern  times  who  combined  the 
strongest  will  with  the  most  powerful  intellect  was 
the  first  Xapoleon.  But  an  uninterrupted  course  of 
success  darkened  the  majestic  mind  of  this  great 
egotist,  and  led  him  at  last  to  irretrievable  destruc- 
tion. But  history  tells  us  of  another  great  French 
captain,  who,  though  a  woman,  ignorant  of  war,  dis- 
played unparalleled  military  skill,  awakened  bound- 
less enthusiasm,  went  straight  forward  from  triumph 
to  triumph,  and  won  the  greatest  triumph  of  all  in 
her  martyr  death,  so  becoming 

"The  whitest  lily  on  the  shield  of  France." 

Her  unbending  force  of  purpose,  which  overcame 
all  obstacles,  was  animated  by  pure  patriotism,  un- 
selfish devotion  to  her  country,  and  a  simple  trust 
in  God.  Therefore  were  revealed  to  her,  an  inno- 
cent child,  secrets  of  power  which  had  been  hidden 
from  the  wise  and  prudent  statesmen  of  France  and 
from  all  its  bravest  soldiers. 

All  imperialism  seems  doomed  to  destruction. 
By  imperialism  I   mean  a  mighty  will  joined  to  a 


372  SELF-CULTURE. 

powerful  intellect,  and  guided  by  selfish  ambition. 
imperialism  in  France  has  gone  down  twice  into 
ruin.  Whoever  seeks  to  acquire  all  power  in  his 
own  hands  for  personal  ends,  whether  he  is  an  im- 
perial banker  or  railroad  king,  an  imperial  orator, 
politician,  statesman,  editor,  merchant,  speculator, 
man  of  science,  —  seems  surely  destined  to  decline 
and  fall.  Force  of  will  joined  with  intellect,  but 
without  conscience,  carries  such  men  up  to  a  great 
height  of  popularity  and  power;  and  then,  blinded 
by  their  own  success,  they  commit  errors  which 
bring  them  suddenly  to  the  ground. 

Self-reliance,  self-restraint,  self-control,  self-direc- 
tion, these  constitute  an  educated  will.  If  the  will 
is  weak,  it  must  be  taught  self-reliance;  if  it  is 
wilful,  it  must  have  restraint;  if  it  is  violent,  it 
must  acquire  self-control  ;  if  it  is  without  any  true 
aim,  it  must  be  educated  to  self-direction.  Free- 
dom is  self-direction.  No  one  is  really  free  who 
cannot  guide;  himself  according  to  his  own  deliber- 
ate judgment ;  a  man  who  has  no  principles,  there- 
lore,  cannot  be  free.  Such  an  one  is  like  a  ship 
without  compass  or  chart,  sure  to  drift  where  the 
winds  blow  it  or  the  currents  drive  it.  The  poor 
drunkard  is  the  slave  of  the  bottle.  Tie  knows  that 
it  is  his  ruin;  but  it  says  to  him  "Drink,"  and  he 
must  obey.  But  Napoleon  wa<  no  less  the  slave  to 
his  ambition.  He  knew  that  his  campaign  in  Russia 
was  beset  by  unknown  dangers  ;  he  saw  the  awful 
abyss  before  him;  but  ambition  said,  "  Go  forward 


HDUCATIOX   Of    THE    WILL.  oio 

and  try  to  become  king  of  the  world  !"  and  he  was 
obliged  to  obey,     tie  was  drunk  with  ambition. 

'The  two  diseases  of  the  will  are  indecision  or 
weakness  of  will,  and  wilfulness  or  unregulated 
strength  of  will.  The  cure  for  both  is  sell-direc- 
tion according  to  conscience  and  truth. 

Weakness  of  will,  or  indecision,  arises  from  dif- 
ferent causes.  One  is  a  disproportion  between  the 
ideal  and  the  practical  faculties.  This  is  best 
shown  in  Shakspeare's  Hamlet.  He  is  unable  to 
decide,  because  he  has  too  many  ideas  together 
in  his  mind.  A  man  who  sees  only  one  thing, 
easily  makes  up  his  mind.  But  one  who,  like 
Hamlet,  sees  both  sides  of  every  subject,  often  can- 
not decide  to  take  either  side.  Is  the  ghost  really 
bis  father's  ghost,  or  is  it  not  a  false  demon  sent 
to  lead  him  astray?  He  cannot  decide.  Does  it 
bring  airs  from  heaven  or  blasts  from  hell  ?  Is  its 
intent  evil  or  charitable?  Impossible  for  him  to 
make  up  his  mind.  This  is  the  disease  of  excessive 
mental  education,  when  the  intellect  is  cultivated 
out  of  proportion  to  the  active  powers.  The  nat- 
ural cure  for  this  is  action,  work,  daily  returning 
duties,  which  must  be  done,  about  which  there1  can 
be  no  hesitation,  no  delay. 

Another  source  of  weakness  of  will  is  a  defect  in 
the  power  of  concentration;  inability  to  fix  the 
mind  on  one  subject,  and  to  hold  to  it  till  it  is 
done.  Man}'  persons  are  so  made  that  they  no 
sooner  have   begun   one   thing  than   thev   are   beset 


374  SELF-CUL  TURK. 

by  the  insane  desire  of  doing  something  else.  They 
are  allured  away  by  every  accident.  The  cure  for 
this  disease  is  to  shut  off  all  extra  work,  and  keep 
to  your  own.  Narrow  the  channel  of  your  stream, 
and  it  will  run  with  greater  power.  Keep  to  your 
point.  Remember  the  saying  of  Christ,  "  One  thing 
is  needful."  One  thing,  always,  is  needful;  all 
others  are  secondary  and  auxiliary.  Do  the  work 
first  which  is  next  at  hand.  "  Do  your  nearest 
duty,"  say  Goethe  and  Carlyle ;  but  the  Book  of 
Ecclesiastes  said  it  long  before,  "  Whatever  thy 
hand  finds  to  do,  do  it  with  all  thy  might." 

There  is  an  anecdote  related  of  himself  by  Alli- 
en, in  his  very  interesting  autobiography,  describing 
the  way  in  which  he  compelled  himself  to  keep  at 
his  work.  Being  very  fond  of  horses  and  of  riding, 
he  often  left  his  desk  and  writing  to  take  an  ex- 
cursion. No  matter  what  resolution  he  made,  the 
temptation  of  a  fine  day  was  too  strong  to  be  re- 
sisted. So  lie  directed  his  servant  to  tie  him  in 
his  chair,  and  to  fasten  him  by  knots  he  could  not 
himself  loosen,  ami  then  go  out  of  sight  and  hear- 
ing for  a  certain  number  of  hours.  Thus  Alfieri 
was  obliged  to  keep  at  his  desk.  He  adds  that  to 
avoid  the  ridicule  of  his  being  found  by  chance  vis- 
itors thus  fastened,  the  servant  covered  him  with 
a  cloak  before  departing.  Thus  the  higher  nature 
conquered  the  lower. 

What  force  of  will  has  been  shown  by  great  dis- 
coverers,— -by  Franklin,  Parry,  Kane,  in  their  Arc- 


EDUCATION  OF   THE    WILL.  375 

tic  journeys,  by  Livingstone  and  Stanley  in  their 
African  explorations.  Such  histories  show  us  how 
much  man  can  do  and  hear,  sustained  by  a  firm 
determination.  It  makes  us  stronger  ourselves  to 
read  of  such  strength. 

Discipline,  no  less  than  concentration,  is  a  cure 
for  a  weak  will.  There  is  great  power  of  strength 
in  habitual  work.  The  day-laborer,  who  takes  his 
tin  pail  in  his  hand  every  morning,  and  goes  to 
his  work,  feels  new  power,  self-respect,  and  hope 
coming  into  his  soul.  He  has  a  mission,  a  duty,  a 
place  in  Clod's  universe.  He  stands  high  above  the 
luxurious  idler  who,  three  or  four  hours  later,  turns 
on  his  bed  and  says,  "1  wonder  what  I  shall  do  to- 
day'." The  ruts  of  human  life  are  full  of  healing 
for  sick  souls.  We  cannot  be  always  taking  the 
initiative  and  beginning  life  anew.  We  need  to 
be  carried  forward  by  our  daily  work,  as  the  boat 
is  taken  down  by  the  current  of  the  stream.  Daily 
work  is  one  of  the  blessed  influences  which  keep 
the  soul  strong  and  sane. 

Necessity  is  a  great  power  to  help  us  all.  We 
are  saved  by  work,  and  we  are  made  to  work  by 
necessity.  The  necessary  tasks  of  life  give  un- 
known power  to  the  will.  There  was  a  story  in 
our  family,  which  I  used  to  hear  when  a  boy,  that 
Governor  Brooks,  when  an  officer  in  the  Revolu- 
tion, received  an  order  from  General  Washington 
to  go  somewhere,  when  he  was  lying  helpless  from 
rheumatism.      He  replied   that   he   was    unable   to 


376  SELF-CULTURE. 

go.  General  Washington  sent  back  his  order,  "  Sir, 
you  must  go!"  Then  Colonel  Brooks  mounted 
his  horse,  and  went,  and  did  the  required  work. 
Here,  also,  the  ascendency  of  Washington's  supreme 
soul  enabled  his  subordinate  to  make  the  effort. 
Whatever  Washington  commanded  must  be  done. 
A  weak  soul  weakens  us.  a  strong  soul  strengthens. 
Plutarch  tells  us  that  the  immense  influence  of 
Julius  C;esar  made  heroes  of  his  subordinates. 
Common  men,  says  he,  became  invincible  when 
serving  C;esar.  One  man,  in  a  sea-fight,  had  his 
right  hand  cut  off,  but  pushed  on  and  won  the' 
victory.  A  private  soldier  in  one  engagement 
plunged  into  a  morass,  and  helped  to  beat  off  the 
enemy,  but  lost  his  shield.  Ctesar  ran  to  meet 
him  with  a  shout  of  joy,  but  the  soldier,  in  tears, 
begged  pardon  for  the  loss  of  his  shield.  I  was 
told  by  Mr.  Speed,  Abraham  Lincoln's  attorney- 
general,  that  after  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg, 
Lincoln  alone  for  many  days  furnished  a  supply 
of  faith  and  hope  to  the  nation.  Hundreds  of 
leading  men,  from  all  parts  of  tin1  country,  went 
sadly  into  his  room,  and  came  out  cheerful  and 
hopeful. 

The  will  of  Michael  Angelo  was  strong,  but  if 
that  of  Pope  Julius  had  not  been  stronger,  we  should 
not  have  had  that  greatest  work  of  human  art.  the 
Prophets  and  Sibyls  of  the  Sistine  Chapel.  Michael 
Angelo  refused  positively  to  paint  the  walls,  because 
he  did  not  understand  painting  in  fresco.     The  Pope 


EDUCATION  OF   THE    WILL.  377 

insisted,  and  Angelo  then  went  to  work,  made  his 
own  colors,  mixed  them,  tried  them,  learned  how  to 
paint,  and  having  thus  taught  himself  the  art,  pro- 
ceeded to  excel  all  that  had  ever  been  done  in  it 
before,  and  also  all  that  has  ever  been  done  since. 

But  the  great  physicians  for  all  weakness  and  all 
wilfulness,  for  all  the  diseases  and  imperfections 
of  tlu1  will,  are  reason,  conscience,  and  faith.  The 
sight  of  what  ought  to  be  done,  the  feeling  that 
whatever  ought  to  be  done  must  be  done,  and  the 
trust  that  whatever  must  be  done  (rod  will  help  us 
to  do,  —  these  great  agencies  turn  our  cowardice 
into  courage,  and  help  us  to  .say,  ""When  1  am  weak, 
then  I  am  strong."  To  renounce  one's  own  private 
will  gives  to  the  will  the  highest  power. 

Animated  by  great  truths,  weak  women  have  not 
feared  to  die  the  death  of  martyrs.  In  a  great  cause 
not  their  own,  men  have  gladly  perished,  inspired 
by  the  commanding  sense  of  duty,  they  have  accom- 
plished the  impossible.  And  in  how  many  scenes 
of  common  life  do  not  these  great  powers  strengthen 
the  weak,  restrain  the  strong,  give  self-control,  self- 
restraint,  self-direction;  teach  men  to  deny  them- 
selves, to  conquer  appetite,  to  rise  above  their 
besetting  sins.  Faith  in  God  is  the  source  of  all 
power.  Before  a  soul  inspired  by  this  faith,  the 
animal  strength  of  a  Napoleon  or  a  Jackson  is  only 
weakness.  This  is  the  force  to  make  the  human 
mind  invulnerable  and  invincible,  lie  who  fears 
God    has   no    other   fear.      Insight,    conscience,   and 


3  7  S  SELF-  CUL  TURE. 

faith  are  the  powers  which  rule  the  world.  If  you 
would  educate  your  will  to  real  and  permanent 
strength,  it  will  be  by  their  inspiration.  Submis- 
sion to  duty  and  God  gives  the  highest  energy. 
He  who  has  done  the  greatest  work  on  earth,  said 
that  he  came  down  from  heaven,  not  to  do  his  own 
will,  but  the  will  of  Him  who  sent  him.  "Who- 
ever allies  himself  with  God  is  armed  with  all  the 
forces  of  the  invisible  world.  That  is  why  King 
Herod  feared  John,  a  captive  in  his  hands,  "know- 
ing that  he  was  a  just  man."  Mere  power  shrinks 
and  trembles  in  the  presence  of  conscience.  So 
Comus,  in  Milton's  poem,  says  when  the  lady 
speaks : — 

"She  fables  not  ;  I  feel  that  I  do  fear 
Her  words,  set  off  by  some  superior  power." 

This  is  the  divine  influence  which  is  able  to  create 
strength  out  of  weakness,  and  cure  all  the  diseases 
of  the  human  will. 


XVIII. 
EDUCATION  BY  MEANS  OF  AMUSEMENT. 


XVIII. 
EDUCATION  BY  MEANS  OF  AMUSEMENT. 


THE  subject  of  this  chapter  is  the  Education 
which  can  he  given  by  means  of  Amusements  ; 
or,  Recreation  as  a  Source  of  Culture. 

Perhaps  it  may  surprise  some  persons  to  hear 
that  amusements  may  become  a  means  of  culture. 
But  it  ought  not  to  surprise  us.  The  love  of  play 
and  sport  shows  that  amusement  is  evidently  one  of 
the  original  instincts  of  human  nature,  and,  indeed, 
of  the  whole  animal  creation ;  and  such  instincts 
are  not  implanted  in  vain.  All  young  creatures 
play.  Dogs  are  very  fond  of  play ;  kittens  play  by 
the  hour  ;  insects,  birds,  fishes,  play  in  the  air,  in 
the  water,  among  the  trees.  And  by  play  they 
develop  their  faculties,  quicken  their  senses,  acquire 
alacrity  of  perception,  rapidity  of  movement,  power 
of  attack  and  defence.  I  saw,  the  other  day,  as  I 
passed  over  the  Common,  some  fine  dogs,  which  had 
been  confined,  1  suppose,  all  the  morning  in  the 
dog-show,  brought  out  by  their  owner  to  take  a  run 
on  the   open  Common.     Nothing  could  exceed  the 


382  SELF-CULTURE. 

evident  delight  which  they  took  in  the  mere  exercise 
of  their  limbs  in  the  fresh  air.  They  coursed  up 
and  down  at  full  speed  in  every  direction,  darting 
away  to  the  furthest  part  of  the  Common,  and  then 
back  like  the  wind  to  their  master,  and  away 
again.  The  passers-by  smiled  in  sympathy  with 
their  joy. 

Animals  enjoy  playing,  and  do  a  great  many 
things  merely  for  amusement.  A  kitten  plays  with 
a  ball  of  thread,  or  chases  its  tail,  from  this  impulse 
of  sport;  a  dog  will  enjoy  himself  by  the  hour  in 
running  after  what  you  throw,  and  bringing  it  to 
you.  Even  whales  are  often  seen  at  play  in  the 
ocean,  tumbling  over  in  the  water,  and  throwing 
their  huge  carcasses  into  the  air  in  pure  fun.  There 
are  birds  which  arrange  bowers  and  gardens  for 
their  amusement.  Thus  all  through  creation  runs 
this  alternation  from  work  to  play,  from  play  to 
work.  Even  animals  which  seem  to  be  all  work 
and  no  play,  like  bees  and  ants,  probably  have  their 
recreations. 

The  instinct  of  play  in  man  is  stronger  and  deeper 
than  in  animals;  for  it  is  as  universal  in  childhood, 
it  develops  into  a  greater  variety  of  forms,  it  con- 
tinues during  life,  it  grows  up  into  various  line  arts, 
and  is  at  the  basis  of  many  noble  works.  Many 
trades  depend  on  it ;  people  get  their  living  out  of 
it,  and  work  to  enable  others  to  play. 

The  plays  of  children  evidently  grow  out  of  a 
deep  instinct.     The  ancient  tombs  of  Egypt,  which 


EDUCATION  BY  MEANS   OF  AMUSEMENT.    3So 

contain  the  fossil  remains  of  the  customs  of  dead 
races  of  men,  have  pictures  of  children  playing  top 
and  ball,  as  they  do  in  our  streets  and  on  our  Com- 
mon. Dolls,  like  the  children's  dolls  of  to-day,  are 
found  preserved  in  the  tombs,  and  are  to  he  seen  in 
Egyptian  museums.  In  fact,  children  are  very  con- 
servative in  their  games  and  their  toys;  their  amuse- 
ments continue  nine',  the  same  for  thousands  of 
years;  their  almanac  of  sports,  though  unwritten,  is 
very  precise.  Top  time,  ball  time,  kite  time,  marble 
time,  return  annually,  as  regularly  as  spring,  summer, 
autumn,  and  winter. 

The  stories  told  by  nurses  and  mothers  to  amuse 
children  frequently  can  be  traced  backward  to  a 
hoar  antiquity.     Childhood,  says  a  poet, 

"  II  is  its  legend?,  gray  with  age, 
Saved  from  the  crumbling  wrecks  of  yore, 
When  Northern  conquerors  moored  their  barks 
Along  the  Saxon  shine." 

The  plays  of  children  make  a  very  important  part 
of  their  education.  Their  importance,  however,  has 
been  overlooked.  Amusements,  though  constituting 
so  large  a  part  of  human  life,  have  been  thought 
unworthy  of  the  notice  of  serious  people.  1  have 
looked  in  vain  in  the  American  Encyclopedia  for 
any  article  on  toys,  or  games,  or  amusements.  But 
wise  men  have  not  so  undervalued  tins  part  of 
human  life.  Montaigne  says:  "It  is  to  be  noted 
that  the  play   of  children    is   not   really  play,   but 


384  SELF-CULTURE. 

must  be  judged  of  as  their  most  serious  actions." 
Lord  Bacon  says  of  games  of  recreation  :  "  I  hold 
them  to  belong  to  civil  life  and  education." 

Certainly  the  love  of  play  was  given  to  children 
as  a  most  important  means  of  education.  Any- 
thing which  makes  them  run  to  and  fro,  chasing 
and  being  chased,  is  intensely  amusing  to  them;  and 
so  it  develops  their  muscular  power,  alertness,  quick- 
ness of  eye,  skill  in  balancing,  in  turning  round  and 
round,  watchfulness,  patience,  and  many  other  facul- 
ties. Out  of  the  four  hundred  muscles  of  the  human 
body,  a  large  majority  are  probably  exercised  in 
these  violent  games,  while  regular  work  only  exer- 
cises a  limited  number.  Therefore  the  Lord  sends 
the  love  of  active  plays  first,  in  order  that  all  the 
body  shall  be  developed  to  some  extent,  and  all  the 
perceptions  roused  and  quickened.  Children  have 
an  instinctive  desire  to  be  in  motion,  to  look  at 
everything,  touch  everything,  ask  about  everything, 
play  with  everything.  This  instinct  ought  not  to 
be  repressed,  but  encouraged.  It  is  a  great  mistake 
to  make  children  sit  still  long,  except  sometimes 
that  they  may  learn  to  sit  still.  It  is,  no  doubt, 
inconvenient  to  their  elders,  this  perpetual  prying 
activity,  this  insatiable  curiosity,  this  asking  of  in- 
numerable questions  ;  but  if  they  do  not  do  all  this, 
how  shall  they  learn  ?  The  Lord  made  them  so, 
and  he  made  them  so  for  good  reasons.  The  child 
does  not  need  much  for  his  amusement:  expensive 
toys  are  usually  wasted  on  him.     Give  him  a  bit  of 


EDUCATION  BY  MEANS   OE  AMUSEMENT.    385 

string  to  tie  knots  in;  something  to  roll,  to  push,  to 
set  up  and  take  down,  to  take  apart  and  put  to- 
gether ;  a  heap  of  sand,  a  bunch  of  sticks,  paper 
to  tear  or  to  cut,  water  to  sail  his  boat,  sand  to  dig, 
— ■  and  he  is  fully  satisfied.  How  suggestive  is  the 
story  of  the  young  prince,  for  whom  a  box  of  costly 
playthings  had  been  brought  from  Paris,  who  soon 
grew  tired  of  them,  and  going  to  the  window,  said, 
"  Mamma,  may  I  go  out  and  play  in  that  beautiful 
mud  ? " 

Going  on  further,  the  principle  of  games  can  be 
used  to  a  much  greater  extent  than  it  is  in  the 
training  and  instruction  of  the  child's  mind.  "Why 
forbid  us  to  learn  by  play  ? "  asks  the  wise  Eoman, 
who  probably  had  been  told  by  pedants  then  what 
we  hear  from  them  now,  that  if  you  make  study  too 
pleasant,  it  will  cease  to  be  a  discipline.  But  why 
not  introduce  into  schools  games  of  history,  of  bi- 
ography, of  geography,  of  chronology,  of  arithmetic, 
to  prepare  for  which  study  is  necessary.  Then,  in- 
stead of  a  class  coming  out  to  recite  stupidly  and 
blunderingly  its  half-committed  lesson,  you  would 
call  the  class  out  to  play  the  game  of  cpaestion  and 
answer;  and  every  eye  would  be  watchful,  every 
ear  attentive,  every  faculty  intent,  and  the  whole 
intellect  roused  to  its  highest  activity.1  What  could 
be  better  discipline  than  this  ?     Is  there  any  better 

1  This  suggestion  was  already  made  by  Locke,  in  his  admirable 
Treatise  on  Education,  in  which  so  many  modern  improvements 
in  education  were  anticipated. 

■2?) 


386  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

exercise  of  the  intellect  than  that  which  calls  all  its 
powers  into  the  fullest  action  ? 

This  principle  has  long  been  practised  in  schools, 
but  only  accidentally,  not  systematically,  except  in 
the  method  of  Kindergartens.  Why  not  carry  it 
further  ?  When  I  was  a  hoy  at  school,  mental 
arithmetic  was  thus  taught,  and  with  great  success. 
Every  boy  who  gave  the  right  answer  went  up,  all 
who  gave  the  wrong  went  down  ;  so  we  were  all 
winning  and  losing  and  winning  again  our  positions, 
from  the  beginning  of  the  recitation  to  the  end. 
Capping  Latin  verses  was  also  made  a  game,  and 
the  boys  who  would  have  found  it  hard  to  learn 
twenty  lines  of  A'irgil  as  a  task,  committed  to  mem- 
ory hundreds  of  their  own  accord,  in  order  to  be 
prepared  for  the  contest  which  was  to  come. 

Moral  lessons  and  moral  discipline,  also,  come 
from  games.  The  intense  enjoyment  of  play  enables 
children  to  support  pain,  teaches  them  to  obey 
rules,  to  control  themselves,  to  submit  to  discipline, 
to  bear  fatigue  without  complaint,  and  so  largely 
helps  in  the  formation  of  character.  Xo  doubt  chil- 
dren quarrel  and  scold  a  good  deal  during  their  play; 
but  they  gradually  learn  to  control  their  passions, 
repress  their  anger,  be  careful  of  their  speech,  know- 
ing that  otherwise  their  companions  will  refuse  to 
play  witli  them.  Can  any  one  doubt  that  this  makes 
an  important  part  of  education  ? 

But  the  instinct  of  play  and  the  desire  for  amuse- 
ment is  not  exhausted  in  childhood.     Grown  men 


EDUCATW.X  BY  MEANS   OF  AMUSEMENT,    uii'i 

and  women  need  amusement,  also,  only  of  a  higher 
kind.  The  rude  games  of  children  are  replaced  by 
those  in  which  skill,  art,  taste,  appear.  Graceful 
dances,  artistic  and  dramatic  representations,  athletic 
exercises,  have  existed  among  all  races  and  in  all 
times,  and  show  how  deep  this  instinct  goes,  and 
that  instead  of  trying  to  eradicate  it,  we  should  seek 
to  purify  and  elevate  it.  We  should  substitute  for 
low  pleasures  those  of  a  higher  kind;  coarse  and 
brutal  amusements  should  be  supplanted  by  nobler 
ones  ;  instead  of  the  pleasures  which  degrade,  we 
should  give  those  which  elevate. 

This  process  has  already  been  going  on  under  the 
influence  of  civilization  and  Christianity.  You  will 
find  all  over  Europe,  wherever  the  Romans  extended 
tln-ir  sway,  the  remains  of  vast  amphitheatres,  where 
the  whole  population  of  a  city  assembled  to  witness 
the  lights  of  gladiators  with  each  other  and  with 
wild  beasts,  and  where  thousands  of  human  beings 
were  often  ''butchered  to  make  a  Roman  holiday." 
All  that  has  gone,  —  gone  so  far  away  that  we  can 
hardly  realize  that  such  a  state  of  things  ever  ex- 
isted. The  ferocious  bull-fights  of  Portugal  and  the 
boxing-matches  of  the  English  are  also  passing 
away.  The  theatre,  though  not  what  it  ought  to 
be,  and  can  become,  is  vastly  better  than  it  was  in 
England  or  France  two  hundred  years  ago.  The 
grossness  of  those  times  would  not  now  be  tolerated 
on  any  European  stage. 

What  is  needed  in  order  to  carrv  on  this  reform 


3  S  S  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

is  (1st)  to  admit  the  importance  of  the  subject,  the 
vast  influence  which  amusements  exercise  on  the 
character  for  good  and  evil;  and  (2d)  to  find  out 
how,  instead  of  attempts  to  suppress  and  eradicate 
amusements,  we  can  purify  and  ennoble  them. 

When  thoughtful  and  Christian  men  apply  their 
minds  to  this  subject,  they  will,  I  think,  come  to 
these  conclusions. 

Amusements  are  good  and  not  evil  in  proportion 
as  they  are  (1)  Inexpensive,  and  so  within  reach  of 
all ;  (2)  Xot  exclusive,  but  social ;  (3)  Xot  leaving 
one  exhausted  and  with  distaste  for  work,  but  more 
able  to  return  to  work ;  (4)  Xot  degrading  the  tastes, 
but  elevating  them. 

All  these  conditions  are  fulfilled  by  the  recreations 
which  are  public  and  free,  such  as  public  gardens, 
concerts,  libraries,  zoological  gardens,  museums  of 
natural  history  and  science,  galleries  of  art.  These 
should  be  provided  in  all  our  cities  and  large 
towns.  And  this  might  be  carried  still  further 
by  having,  in  the  vicinity  of  cities,  parks  where 
various  innocent  amusements  should  be  provided 
for  the  people,  and  in  the  cities  themselves  large, 
well-lighted  buildings,  where  there  should  be  halls 
for  conversation,  for  reading,  and  for  games,  open 
every  evening  to  the  poorest  people.  This,  1  am 
satisfied,  is  the  only  way  to  conquer  the  attractions 
of  the  saloons,  of  drinking-plaees,  where  poison  is 
sold  which  drives  men  mad,  and  leads  to  murder, 
ruin,  and  despair. 


EDUCATION  BY  MEANS  OF  AMUSEMENT.    389 

Total  abstinence  is  a  good  tiling,  as  a  security  for 
those  who  are  in  danger,  and  as  the  only  safeguard 
of  those  who  have  become  intemperate.  Very  often, 
the  only  means  of  reaching  temperance  is  by  absti- 
nence. Prohibition  is  also  a  good  thing,  when  an 
evil  has  readied  the  height  which  intemperance  has 
obtained  in  all  modern  nations.  If  I  could  do  it, 
I  would  not  allow  a  drop  of  intoxicating  liquor  to 
be  sold  in  the  United  States.  Not  that  I  think  it 
wrong  to  drink  a  glass  of  wine  or  beer ;  but  that  I 
should  think  it  well  to  give  up  half  even  of  the 
comforts  as  well  as  the  luxuries  of  life,  in  order  to 
put  an  end  to  the  frightful  evils  of  intemperance. 
Unfortunately,  it  has  not  proved  possible  to  carry 
out  any  law  of  prohibition.  But  if  I  cannot  have 
universal  prohibition,  I  would  have  local  option; 
and,  in  addition  to  that,  I  would  have  temperance 
men  devise  new  plans  and  try  new  methods.  It  is 
not  enough  to  induce  men  to  abstain;  we  must  pro- 
vide some  other  excitement,  some  other  pleasure  to 
take  the  place  of  the  old  one.  Negative  morality 
is  not  enough;  self-denial  is  not  enough  ;  we  need 
positive  good  to  take  the  place  of  evil. 

A  working-man  goes  from  his  home  early,  and 
works  all  day  in  the  wet  and  cold.  His  dinner  is 
only  cold  meat  and  bread,  or  some  indigestible  pie 
or  cake.  He  comes  back  tired  to  a  dreary  and  dirty 
home.  Is  it  strange  that  lie  should  long  for  one 
hour  of  pleasure  and  comfort  \  He  finds  a  saloon 
open,  warmed  and  lighted.     For  a  few  cents  he  can 


390  SELF-CULTURE. 

get  a  drink  which  will  exhilarate  him  and  cause 
him  to  feel  cheerful.  He  can  here  smoke  and  talk 
with  others  who  have  also  laid  aside  care.  Is  it 
strange  that  the  saloon  should  be  patronized,  —  so 
long  as  the  community  provides  nu  innocent  recrea- 
tion as  cheerful  and  pleasant  ? 

One  of  the  stories  told  by  Jesus,  which  exhibits 
in  a  striking  way  his  consummate  wisdom,  is  of  the 
evil  spirit,  which,  having  been  driven  out  of  a  man, 
returned  again,  when  lie  found  the  house  of  the  soul 
swept  and  garnished  indeed,  but  empty.  Then,  lie 
came  back  into  the  house,  with  seven  other  spirits 
worse  than  himself,  because  the  house  was  empty. 
Negative  reforms  leave  the  house  empty.  They  take 
away  the  old  excitement,  which,  poor  as  it  was,  did 
fill  and  occupy  the  mind,  and  they  substitute 
nothing  else.  If  you  would  cure  men  of  low  en- 
joyments, you  must  substitute  higher  ones.  If  by 
replacing  the  maddening  alcohol  with  light  wines 
and  beer  I  could  drive  out  those  dreadful  poisons,  I 
would  gladly  do  so.  For  though  the  use  of  these 
may,  when  carried  to  excess,  occasionally  produce  in- 
toxication, they  do  not  madden  and  deprave;  they 
do  not  lead  to  wife-beating  and  wife-murder  ;  they 
do  not  destroy  the  moral  fibre,  and  bring  men  down 
to  the  level  of  the  beast,  and  below  it.  Beasts  are 
temperate;  but  the  intemperate  man  goes  far  below 
their  level. 

No  reform  is  of  any  permanent  value  which  is 
merely    negative.     Self-denial   and    abstinence    are 


EDUCATION  BY  MEANS   OE  AMUSEMENT.    391 

only  the  first  steps  upward.  Every  man  must  have 
something  to  enjoy;  some  recreation  for  his  weary 
hours.  The  true  recreation  is  that -which  re-creates, 
which  brings  back  a  new  life  to  mind  and  heart. 
The  true  refreshment  is  that  which  makes  the  soul 
fresh,  strong,  vigorous,  prepared  for  new  work. 
When  amusement  is  made  the  end  of  lii'e,  when 
people  live  lor  pleasure,  then  they  are  dead  while 
they  live.  Rut  we  should  breathe  pleasure  as  we 
do  the  air,  to  strengthen  us  for  work,  duty,  progress, 
usefulness. 

The  Christian  Church  has  in  past  times  been  too 
ascetic.  Its  morality  has  been  of  the  Jewish  kind, 
one  of  negatives.  You  must  not  do  this,  it  said; 
you  must  abstain  from  that.  This  world  is  a  vale 
of  tears.  Get  out  of  it;  keep  away  from  it.  This 
kind  of  teaching  failed,  and  always  has  failed,  to 
reach  that  large  class  who  are  full  of  life,  health, 
energy,  and  who  wish  to  exercise  their  powers.  These 
have  looked  on  the  Church  and  Christianity  as 
something  to  be  respected,  but  to  be  avoided.  They 
saw  nothing  attractive  in  them.  The  Church  pro- 
scribed dancing  and  the  theatre  as  immoral  and  evil. 
But  the  love  of  these  amusements  was  too  natural  a 
feeling  to  be  uprooted.  Consequently  part  of  the 
world  danced  and  went  to  the  theatre,  and  half-felt 
they  were  doing  wrong,  and  the  other  part  abstained 
and  condemned  the  others.  The  one  class  despised 
the  other  as  puritanical,  and  these  condemned  the 
others  as  worldlings. 


392  SELF-CULTURE. 

But  the  gospel  conies  to  make  all  the  creation  of 
God  one.  It  is  the  atonement  of  the  pleasures  of 
childhood  and  tire  work  of  manhood,  of  amusement 
and  labor,  of  this  world  and  the  next,  of  present  joy 
and  future  happiness.  It  sanctifies  play,  and  makes 
work  a  source  of  joy.  It  smiles  on  the  gayeties  of 
the  child,  and  helps  the  earnest  purpose  of  the  man. 
It  says,  "  I  pray  not  that  thou  shouldest  take  them 
out  of  the  world,  but  that  thou  shouldest  keep  them 
from  the  evil."  Asceticism  throws  away  a  great 
power  given  by  God  to  help  and  improve  us.  It 
abandons  to  evil  what  might  be  a  vast  motor  force 
leading  to  good.  John  Wesley  saw  the  true  prin- 
ciple when  lie  adapted  hymns  to  cheerful  tunes, 
declaring  that  the  devil  ought  not  to  have  all  the 
good  music.  The  principle  of  amusement  may  be 
used  to  make  all  study,  all  culture,  all  improvement 
attractive.  Thus  the  study  of  history  has,  in  our 
day,  by  Macaulay,  Motley,  Carlyle,  and  other  writ- 
ers, been  made  as  amusing  as  novels,  —  much  more 
so,  indeed,  than  the  majority  of  novels.  The  prin- 
ciple of  amusement  has  even  gone  into  sermons  and 
lectures ;  and  here  again  we  are  only  following 
Jesus,  who  made  religious  and  moral  instruction 
amusing  by  putting  it  into  parables  ;  that  is,  into 
amusing  stories.  Many  of  the  proverbs  of  Solomon 
are  very  witty  and  entertaining.  Therefore  we 
ought  to  change  the  mere  natural  desire  for  pure 
amusement  into  the  higher  enjoyment  of  amuse- 
ment  connected   with   study   and  useful  labor.     A 


EDUCATION  BY  MEANS  OF  AMUSEMENT.    393 

certain  smile  of  gayety  plays  over  the  face  of  all 
well-done  work.  Why  should  we  not  do  all  our 
work  cheerfully,  instead  of  doing  it  gloomily  and 
with  a  sad  countenance.  Therefore,  when  Jesus 
commenced  his  ministry,  his  first  miracle  was  to 
make  wine  at  the  wedding,  adding  to  the  gayety  and 
mirth  of  the  occasion.  There;  he  showed  that  gayety 
and  mirth  are  acceptable  to  God,  and  that  there  is  a 
time  to  laugh  as  well  as  to  weep.  For  doing  this 
he  was  called  a  gluttonous  man  and  a  wine-bibber ; 
but  lie  was  not  deterred  by  these  calumnies  from 
what  he  thought  right,  He  said,  ''The  Son  of  man 
comes  eating  and  drinking."  If  Christianity  has 
ever  been  made  to  frown  on  innocent  pleasure,  to 
denounce  this  world  as  evil,  to  teach  ascetic  self- 
denial,  and  to  exalt  monastic  virtues,  this  was  no 
part  of  the  teaching  of  Jesus.  His  view  was  far 
broader  than  that  of  his  followers ;  his  morality 
more  rich  and  full ;  his  sympathy  with  all  human 
instincts  and  tendencies  more  universal.  He  him- 
self lived  a  life  of  self-denial,  but  he  asked  no  others 
to  share  it,  except  when  necessary  for  something  be- 
yond. Other  religions  have  taught  that  self-denial 
for  its  own  sake  is  good  ;  Jesus  only  enjoined  self- 
denial  for  the  sake  of  a  higher  end. 

If,  therefore,  I  am  asked  whether  such  amusements 
as  dancing  and  the  theatre  are  Christian,  I  reply, 
Certainly  they  are,  if  they  are  not  abused  or  carried 
too  far.  To  these  and  to  all  other  amusements  apply 
the  rules  I  before  gave:    1.  Let  your  amusements  be 


394:  SELF-CULTURE. 

inexpensive,  so  that  many  may  share  them.  2.  Let 
them  be  social  and  open,  for  whatever  is  open  to  all 
eyes  is  more  likely  to  be  innocent.  3.  Let  them  be 
such  as  do  not  leave  you  unfit  for  your  duties,  but 
which  refresh  your  weary  mind  and  body,  so  that 
you  can  return  to  your  work  with  renewed  strength. 
4.  Let  them  not  be  such  as  degrade  and  corrupt, 
and  enslave  you  to  a  habit ;  but  such  as  elevate, 
strengthen,  and  purify  the  soul.  The  amusements 
which  stand  these  tests  are  innocent,  useful,  and 
Christian.  The  theatre  is  a  great  means  of  influ- 
ence, and  the  time  has  come  when  it  should  be  used 
for  good,  and  not  for  evil.  But  this  can  never  be 
done  while  good  people  stay  away  from  it,  or  only 
go  incidentally,  and  leave  it  to  be  patronized  by 
those  who  only  desire  low  excitement.  The  man- 
agers of  a  theatre  are  obliged  to  meet  the  tastes  of 
those  who  come,  not  of  those  who  stay  away.  We 
may  assume  at  once  that  the  drama  is  so  suited  to 
the  nature  of  man  that  it  is  likely  to  endure.  As 
it  cannot  be  abolished,  all  that  remains  to  do  is  to 
elevate  it.  At  present  it  is  allowed  to  become  any- 
thing it  will.  Plays  are  often  acted,  I  am  told,  and 
exhibitions  made,  in  Boston,  which  would  not  be 
permitted  in  Paris;  most  things  are  permitted, — 
vulgarity,  profanity,  licentious  exhibitions,  and  im- 
moral plots.  This  is  not  done  because  the  managers 
prefer  it,  but  because  they  must  suit  the  tastes  of 
their  audience.  Two  methods  may  be  applied  to 
vure  this  evil.     First,  in   licensing  the  theatre,  some 


EDUCATION  BY  MEANS   OF  AMUSEMENT.    395 

censorship  should  be  exercised  over  its  representa- 
tions by  the  city  government.  No  play  and  no 
exhibition  should  be  allowed  of  an  immoral  ten- 
dency. And,  secondly,  those  who  really  wish  to 
reform  the  stage  should  unite  and  agree  to  patronize 
the  theatre  as  long  as  it  complies  with  certain  con- 
ditions. They  might  say  to  the  managers  and  pro- 
prietors, "  We  will  agree  to  take  so  many  thousand 
tickets  for  the  season  on  condition  that  you  exclude 
everything  vulgar  and  immoral."  Make  it  profit- 
able to  have  an  innocent  drama,  and  an  innocent 
drama  will  come.  But  the  chief  thing  to  remember 
is  this,  that  mankind  need  some  sort  of  recreation  ; 
that  if  they  cannot  have  good  amusements  they  will 
have  bad  ones  ;  and  that  therefore  it  is  the  duty  of 
all,  instead  of  merely  condemning  wrong  and  evil 
recreations,  to  seek  to  replace  them  by  better  ones. 
Let  us  try  to  be  like  God,  who  opens  his  hand  and 
satisfies  the  desire  of  every  living  tiling.  He  sends 
abounding  pleasure  to  childhood  and  youth  in  the 
mere  exercise  and  development  of  their  faculties. 
He  makes  everything  beautiful  after  its  kind  and 
in  its  time  ;  he  covers  the  prairie  with  flowers,  the 
dawning  sky  with  rosy  clouds,  and  fills  the  early 
air  of  morning  with  the  songs  of  birds.  He  no- 
where leaves  the  bare  skeleton  of  utility  uncovered 
by  the  rounded  forms  of  grace.  He  intends  that 
life  should  be  cheerful  as  well  as  earnest,  full  of  joy 
as  well  as  of  work.  He  has  left  a  large  place  in  the 
world  for  recreation   and   amusement.     Let   us   see 


306  SELF-CULTURE. 

that  this  is  not  abused,  hut  used.  When  he  has 
made  all  the  earth  to  keep  holiday,  let  not  our 
hearts  he  sullen ;  but  let  us  sympathize  with  all 
natural  pleasure,  all  innocent  mirth,  and  so  keep 
out  whatsoever  is  evil.  "  Thou,  when  thou  fast- 
est, be  not  of  a  sad  countenance,  nor  disfigure  thy 
face,"  but  take  thy  self-denials  gayly  and  cheer- 
fully, and  let  the  sunshine  of  thy  gladness  fall  on 
dark  things  and  bright  alike,  like  the  sunshine  of 
the  Almighty. 


XIX. 


EDUCATION    OF    HOPE. 


XIX. 
EDUCATION   OF   HOPE. 


THERE  are  two  kinds  of  hope  :  an  illusive  hope 
—  a  will-o'-the-wisp,  which  conies  from  an 
excited  imagination- — and  a  substantial  hope,  horn 
from  experience,  tears,  and  wrongs.  Patience  work- 
eth  experience,  and  experience,  hope.  It  is  the  pur- 
pose of  this  chapter  to  distinguish  these,  and  to 
show  how  a  true  hope  may  be  built  up  in  the  soul. 

The  phrenologists  tell  us  that  there  is  a  natural 
organ  of  hopefulness  whose  function  is  to  give  an 
expectation  of  good  things.  Some  have  more  of  it, 
others  less  ;  but  all  have  some.  It  is  an  especially 
human  organ.  Animals  live  in  the  present.  No 
bird  or  beast  tries  to  improve  his  condition,  or  to 
make  his  to-morrow  better  than  his  to-day.  Man 
does  this,  and  his  [tower  of  doing  it  is  the  condition 
of  liis  progress,  both  individual  and  social.  Hope 
may  often  deceive  us,  but  without  it  man  could 
never  have  risen  out  of  the  savage  state.  'Without 
hope,  no  culture,  no  civilization,  no  progress  in 
wealth,    art,    science,    literature.       "Forgetting    the 


400  SELF-CULTURE. 

tilings  behind,  reaching  out  to  those  before,"  —  this 
is  the  secret  of  human  progress.  Fear  of  evil  may 
keep  men  from  going  backward,  but  only  hope  of 
something  better  can  carry  them  on. 

This  organ  of  hope  in  the  brain  is  balanced  by 
another,  that  of  caution.  Hope  sees  the  good  be- 
fore us;  caution,  the  dangers  to  be  encountered  on 
the  way.  Both  are  necessary  to  progress.  A  man 
who  has  too  much  caution  and  too  little  hope  is 
easily  discouraged.  He  is  so  afraid  of  evil  that  he 
does  not  try  to  get  the  good.  He  is  the  slave  of 
anxiety  and  fear.  He  will  never  attempt  any  diffi- 
cult enterprise.  Such  men  do  nothing  to  carry  for- 
ward the  world.  Better  have  too  much  hope,  and 
try,  and  fail,  than  not  to  try  at  all. 

This,  then,  is  one  distinction  between  the  true 
hope  and  the  false  one.  The  hope  which  deceives, 
is  that  which  promises  us  future  good  with  no  co- 
operation of  ours.  We  think  to  have  the  end  with- 
out using  the  means.  We  trust  in  luck,  in  fortune, 
in  genius ;  not  in  thought  and  work.  What  we 
wish  and  vaguely  expect  is  to  find  some  pot  of  gold 
in  the  ground,  to  draw  the  prize  in  the  lottery,  to 
be  helped  by  some  powerful  friend.  Those  in  whom 
this  fictitious  and  illusive  hopefulness  is  strong,  love 
to  read  fairy  stories,  and  imagine  themselves  the 
heroes  ;  are  tempted  to  gamble  at  cards  or  in  stocks  ; 
prefer  speculation  to  legitimate  business  ,  wish  to 
be  rich  at  once.  All  they  undertake,  they  under- 
take blindly,  trusting  in  their  good-fortune,  refusing 


EDUCATION   OF  HOPE.  401 

to  look  at  the  conditions  of  success,  or  the  difficul- 
ties in  their  way.  So  their  life  is  apt  to  be  one  long 
failure. 

The  true  hope,  on  the  contrary,  is  one  which  is 
willing  to  think,  wait,  and  act.  It  is  in  no  hurry, 
does  not  expect  instant  success.  This  is  what  the 
Scripture  means  by  the  "patience  of  hope."  True 
hope  is  very  patient.  It  relies  on  the  working  of 
immutable  laws,  which  are  sure  to  bring  success  at 
last.  The  man  who  has  this  principle  in  him  does 
not  read  fairy  tales,  but  the  biographies  of  those 
who  have  done  great  things.  He  sees  how  many 
difficulties  they  encountered,  how  many  disappoint- 
ments they  met,  how  often  they  were  battled.  He 
sees  how  they  had  the  "patience  of  hope;"  how 
they  tried  again  and  again  and  again  ;  how  they 
learned  something  by  every  failure ;  and  how,  at 
last,  when  success  came,  they  had  fairly  conquered 
it  by  honest,  careful,  thoughtful,  persevering  work. 

Nothing  educates  the  practical  faculty  of  hope 
more  than  the  knowledge  of  what  men  have  done 
by  patience,  wisdom,  and  determined  purpose.  We 
look  back  at  the  great  men  of  history, —  Columbus, 
Socrates,  Dante,  Washington,  Luther,  Milton,  Paul, 
- — and  commonly  we  think  only  of  their  success; 
their  whole  career  seems  to  us  one  of  steady  triumph. 
But  study  their  lives  intimately,  come  close  to  them, 
and  then  you  see  how  they  fought  their  way  against 
constant  opposition,  slander,  hatred,  failure.  The 
ideal  man  whom  we  call  Socrates,  the  great   shining 


402  SELF-CULTURE. 

light  whose  moral  beauty  illuminates  Paganism, 
whose  grandeur  of  soul  has  won  the  praise  of  the 
earth,  —  what  was  his  real  life  ?  He  lived  by  hope. 
Men  whose  names  are  now  forgotten  —  or  would  be 
forgotten  but  for  him  —  lorded  it  over  him,  and 
looked  on  him  with  supreme  and  supercilious  dis- 
dain. The  great  Gorgias,  the  famous  rhetorician, 
thought  it  almost  a  condescension  to  argue  with  him 
and  refute  him.  When  the  celebrated  sophist,  Pro- 
tagoras, arrives  at  Athens,  the  disciples  of  Socrates 
all  leave  him  to  go  to  hear  this  teacher,  much  greater, 
as  they  think,  than  their  own  master.  Xo  one,  in 
the  days  of  Socrates,  anticipated  that  this  plain- 
spoken,  straightforward  man,  who  cannot  make  an 
oration,  or  even  a  speech,  who  can  only  talk  right 
nn,  is  likely  to  be  remembered.  His  companions 
and  friends  admired  and  loved  him,  but  people  gen- 
erally thought  him  too  combative,  too  plain-spoken. 
Xo  one  could  tell  exactly  to  what  party  he  belonged: 
he  opposed  all  parties  in  turn.  He  had  found  fault 
with  the  politicians,  the  orators,  the  tragic  and  comic 
poets,  the  artisans  ;  he  was  by  no  means  popular  at 
Athens.  His  power  was  this,  —  that  he  lived  in  a 
world  of  idea^.  lie  believed  in  great  truths,  he  had 
faith  in  principles.  He  was  strong  in  the  hope 
which  these  inspired.  Nothing  which  he  saw 
around  him  could  give  him  courage  ;  but  his  hope 
of  the  triumph  of  truth  was  enough  for  him. 

We  think  of  Columbus  as  the  great  discoverer  of 
America ;  we  do  not  remember  that  his  actual  life 


EDUCATION  OF  HOPE.  403 

was  one  of  disappointment  and  failure.  Even  his 
discovery  of  America  was  a  disappointment;  he  was 
looking  for  India,  and  utterly  failed  of  this.  Tie 
made  maps  and  sold  them  to  support  his  old  father. 
Poverty,  contumely,  indignities  of  all  sorts,  met  him 
wherever  he  turned.  His  expectations  were  consid- 
ered extravagant,  his  schemes  futile,  the  theologians 
opposed  him  with  texts  out  of  the  Bible,  lie  wasted 
seven  years  waiting  in  vain  for  encouragement  at 
the  court  of  Spain.  He  applied  unsuccessfully  to 
the  governments  of  Venice,  Portugal,  Genoa,  France, 
England.  Practical  men  said,  "  It  can't  lie  done. 
He  is  a  visionary.-'  Doctors  of  divinity  said,  "He 
is  a  heretic ;  he  contradicts  the  Bihle."  Isabella, 
being  a  woman,  and  a  woman  of  sentiment,  wished 
to  heli)  him  ;  hut  her  confessor  said  no.  We  all 
know  how  he  was  compelled  to  put  down  mutiny 
in  his  crew,  and  how,  after  his  discovery  was  made, 
he  was  rewarded  witli  chains  and  imprisonment; 
how  he  died  in  neglect,  poverty,  and  pain,  and  only 
was  rewarded  by  a  sumptuous  funeral.  His  great 
hope,  his  profound  convictions,  were  his  only  sup- 
port and  strength. 

Look  at  the  starved  features  of  the  melancholy 
Dante,  the  exile,  condemned  to  he  burnt  alive  on 
false  charges  of  peculation,  based  on  public  report. 
Think  of  the  poor  wanderer,  unconscious  of  the  glory 
that  was  before  him,  writing  a  pathetic  letter  to  his 
beloved  Florence,  saying,  "My  people,  what  have  I 
done  to  you  ?"     But  he,  also,  clung  to  his  ideas,  de- 


404  SELF-CL  TL  TURE. 

nounced  the  temporal  power  of  the  popes,  put  his 
soul  into  his  great  poem,  lived  in  the  hope  of  the 
triumph  of  justice  and  truth,  and  so  fought  his  good 
fight.  When  invited  to  submit,  and  confess  himself 
in  the  wrong,  and  so  return  to  his  dear  city,  he  re- 
fused, saying  "  he  would  live  under  the  sun  and  stars 
and  see  the  truth,  but  not  make  himself  infamous 
even  to  return  to  Florence." 

All  great  men  have  lived  by  hope.  Not  what  they 
saw,  but  what  they  believed  in,  made  their  strength. 
Milton  was  the  object  of  bitter  opposition  and  sharp 
criticism.  He  was  odious  to  the  Royalists,  disliked 
by  the  Presbyterians,  abused  by  the  great  Salmasius. 
and,  in  his  old  age,  blind  and  poor,  his  friends  in 
exile  and  ruin,  fallen  on  evil  days  and  tongues,  he 
had  nothing  to  console  him,  except  his  visions  of 
eternal  beauty,  and  his  lofty  hope  of  doing  a  great 
work,  which  the  world  would  not  willingly  let  die. 

Paul,  the  apostle,  whose  chance  letters  have  in- 
fluenced the  world  more  than  the  noble  poems  of 
Dante  and  Milton,  or  the  discovery  of  Columbus, 
was  a  very  unpopular  man.  He  lived  by  hope  ,  he 
had  nothing  else  to  live  by.  ""We  are  saved  by 
hope,"  says  lie;  "but  hope  that  is  seen  is  not  hope, 
for  what  a  man  seeth,  why  doth  he  yet  hope  for  i" 
Hope,  with  him,  is  one  of  the  principles  which  en- 
dure through  time  and  eternity.  Knowledge  passes  ; 
opinions  change:  doctrines  and  creeds,  however 
true,  must  be  revised;  but  hope  remains. 

They  say  that  Paul   and   Seneca  may  have  met 


EDUCATION  OF  HOPE.  405 

in  "Rome.  T  doubt  it.  It  is  hardly  possible  that 
Seneca  could  have  wished  to  see  Paul.  Who  was 
Seneca  ?  The  favorite  of  the  Emperor,  having  a 
splendid  palace  in  Home,  numerous  villas  and  gar- 
dens, twelve'  millions  of  dollars  in  cash,  the  greatest 
reputation  for  philosophy, learning,  and  literary  power 
of  any  man  in  the  city.  If  Seneca,  had  been  asked, 
"Who  is  Paul  ?"  he  would  have  said,  "A  wretched 
Jewish  prisoner,  disowned  by  the  Jews  themselves, 
preaching  about  another  Jew  crucified  in  Syria;  a 
miserable  zealot,  a  fanatic,  believing  in  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  dead  and  other  like  follies."  Paul  leads 
to-day  the  thought  of  mankind,  as  he  has  for  centu- 
ries; but,  when  alive,  he  was  hated  by  the  Jews 
with  a  deadly  hatred.  More  than  forty  of  them  took 
a  solemn  oath  not  to  eat  nor  drink  till  they  had 
killed  him.  lie  was  almost  as  odious  to  his  fellow- 
Christians  in  Judea.  They  said,  "  Paul  is  no  apostle, 
and  cannot  be,  for  he  was  not  a  witness  to  Christ's 
resurrection,  and  has  never  even  seen  him.  There 
are  only  twelve  apostles,  and  Matthias  makes  the 
twelfth;  therefore  Paul  is  an  impostor  in  claiming 
to  be  one."  His  own  churches  turned  against  him, 
bewitched  by  the  arguments  of  his  enemies.  A  man 
of  many  sorrows  and  few  joys;  obscure,  despised, 
longing  to  depart  and  be  nearer  to  Christ, —  what 
could  the  great  Seneca  see  at  all  interesting  in 
him  ? 

The  power  which  moves  the  world  is  hope.  An 
anxious,  doubtful,  timid  man  can  accomplish  little. 
Fear  unnerves  us;  hope  inspires  us. 


406  SELF-CULTURE. 

Every  man  must  have  something  to  look  forward 
to.  The  condition  of  human  happiness  is  to  hope 
for  something  better  hereafter  than  we  have  now. 
Give  to  Solomon  all  riches,  all  knowledge,  all  power, 
leave  him  nothing  to  hope  for,  and  he  cries  out,  "All 
is  vanity."  But  let  Paul  he  obliged  to  earn  his 
bread  by  making  tents;  lot  him  be  beaten,  ship- 
wrecked, imprisoned  two  years  at  Cfesarea,  one  year 
at  home,  opposed  by  Jews,  opposed  by  Pagans,  op- 
posed by  Jewish  Christians,  and  let  him  retain  his 
hope  of  the  triumph  of  Christianity  as  a  universal 
religion,  to  which  every  knee  shall  bow  ;  let  him 
keep  his  hope  in  Jesus  as  the  Christ,  who  shall  reign 
till  all  enemies  are  subdued  under  him,  —  and  he  is 
so  happy  that  he  considers  himself  to  be  sitting  in 
heaven  with  Christ  even  now. 

Two  gifts  are  offered  to  men  in  this  world ;  they 
very  seldom  can  have  both.  One  is  success,  with 
weariness  ;  the  other  failure,  witli  hope.  The  last 
is  much  the  best.  The  man  who  succeeds  finds 
that  his  success  does  not  amount  to  a  great  deal  ; 
the  man  who  tails,  but  keeps  his  hope,  is  the  happy 
man. 

We  have  had  in  this  State  of  Massachusetts  a 
man  who  was  all  his  lii'e  fighting  a  good  fight  for 
ideas  and  principles.  He  was  always  an  unpopular 
man  with  many,  especially  with  the  scribes  and 
pharisees  of  politics.  The  chief  priests  and  elders 
of  political  parties  never  liked  him.  He  could  not 
compromise,  he  was  not  a  man  of  expedients.     He 


EDUCATION  OF  HOPE.  407 

was  not  a  man  of  majorities ;  he  was  usually  on  the 
side  of  the  weaker  party.  But  the  common  people 
believed  in  him ;  the  people  of  Massachusetts  and 
of  the  United  States  trusted  him  as  an  honest 
statesman,  a  man  of  principle,  one  who  could  always 
he  depended  on  to  defend  the  right.  He  was  very 
odious  at  the  White  House,  very  much  disliked  by 
the  politicians  who  thought  only  of  the  next  elec- 
tion. But  he  lived  by  hope,  by  faith  in  great  truths; 
and  now,  when  that  noisy  hour  has  passed  by,  and 
the  great  verdict  of  history  is  being  rendered,  the 
name  of  this  Massachusetts  statesman  is  rising  to 
take  its  place  with  the  greatest  in  our  annals.  The 
petty  wrongs  and  insults  offered  to  Charles  Sumner 
are  forgotten ;  the  light  of  his  honest  and  truthful 
record  illuminates  American  history. 

Such  is  the  power  of  hope  born  out  of  faith  in 
ideas. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  said,  "  It  is  well  for  those  who 
are  naturally  hopeful ;  but  what  for  us  who  are  not 
so  ?  How  can  we,  who  naturally  look  on  the  dark 
side  of  things,  who  are  easily  discouraged,  learn  to 
be  more  hopeful  ?  " 

The  organic  faculty  of  hope  differs  in  different 
men.  Some  have  more,  others  less.  But  the  higher 
kind  of  hope,  the  religious  hope,  born  of  conviction, 
all  men  may  have.  All  true  religion  is  hopeful ;  be- 
cause the  difference  between  religion  and  supersti- 
tion is  that  to  the  religious  man  God  is  goodness,  to 
the  superstitious   man   God  is  terror.     True  religion 


408  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

is  that  which  trusts  in  the  goodness  of  God  ;  which 
believes  good  stronger  than  evil,  truth  more  power- 
ful than  error,  right  sure  to  conquer  wrong.  It  is 
a  kingdom  of  heaven  coming  to  take  the  place  of 
hell  on  the  earth.  It  is,  indeed,  faith,  not  sight. 
But  this  faith  comes  to  us  in  all  our  best  hours. 
"When  we  are  in  our  highest  mood,  we  believe  in  the 
goodness  of  God ;  in  the  commanding  authority  of 
duty ;  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  When  we 
are  true,  brave,  strong,  generous,  pure,  we  believe  in 
God.  When  we  are  cowardly,  mean,  selfish,  then 
we  believe  in  the  devil. 

If,  then,  we  wish  to  cultivate  and  strengthen  our 
hope,  it  must  be  by  increasing  our  faith  in  good- 
ness. We  must  have  faith  in  the  true  God,  and 
that  is  essentially  faith  in  goodness.  Faith  in  God 
grows  as  we  live  in  it,  and  from  it.  As  we  believe 
in  justice,  truth,  honor,  and  act  from  that  belief,  our 
faith  in  God  and  goodness  continually  becomes 
stronger. 

The  faith  of  reason  gives  us  confidence  in  the 
divine  laws  as  the  regular  method  by  which  truth 
and  goodness  are  to  prevail.  As  the  world  acquires 
more  faith  in  the  supremacy  and  universality  of 
law,  it  also  comes  to  believe  more  in  progress.  Our 
trust  in  the  order  of  the  universe  gives  the  hope  of 
great  advances  and  improvements  in  the  material 
and  moral  order.  Xo  matter  what  difficulties  inter- 
vene, we  trust  that  order  will  emerge  out  of  con- 
fusion, and  prevail  more  and  more. 


EDUCATION   OF  HOPE.  409 

Faith  in  God  as  goodness  inspires  faith  in  our- 
selves;  and,  therefore,  hope  that  we  are  made  for 
something,  meant  for  something,  and  that  hy  perse- 
verance we  can  accomplish  something.  Thus  faith 
in  Divine  Love  is  the  root  and  the  strength  of  all 
sure  hope. 

Jesus  was  full  of  this  divine  hope.  In  the  midst 
of  loneliness,  opposition,  and  apparent  failure,  he 
looked  forward  to  the  hour  when  he  should  draw 
all  men  unto  him  ;  when  he  should  judge  the  earth 
by  his  truth  ;  come  in  his  kingdom,  and  be  recog- 
nized as  the  light  of  the  world  and  the  king  of 
truth.  His  was  no  illusive  hope,  fed  by  his  wishes 
alone.  He  saw  all  the  evil,  the  wars,  the  persecu- 
tions, which  should  precede  his  triumph.  But  he 
had  no  doubt  of  the  result. 

His  religion  lias,  therefore,  always  inspired  hope, 
both  for  this  life  and  the  life  to  come.  Tins  hope 
has  been  a  constant  motor-power  carrying  civiliza- 
tion forward ;  creating  faith  in  the  divine  laws  ; 
inspiring  science,  art,  and  literature.  Modern  civil- 
ization has  been  fed  at  its  roots  by  this  perpetual 
hope,  born  of  the  Gospel.  Christian  nations  live  in 
a  perpetual  state  of  expectation,  always  hoping  for 
something  new  and  good  ;  heathen  nations  expect 
little,  hope  for  little,  and  therefore  accomplish  little. 

The  Bible  is  a  book  filled  with  hope  from  end  to 
end.  and  therein  lies  much  of  its  power.  As,  in  the 
Book  of  Genesis,  the  rainbow  of  hope  floats  over  the 
retiring  waters  of  the  flood  ;  so  the  same  meteor  of 


410  SELF-CULTURE. 

spectral  beauty  floats  on  over  law  and  prophets, 
gospels  and  epistles,  and  glows  most  brightly  at  the 
close  in  the  Book  of  Revelation,  which  shows  us  a 
new  heaven  and  a  new  earth.  The  law  looked  for- 
ward to  the  prophets ;  the  prophets  to  the  days  of 
the  Messiah  ;  and  those  days  to  his  coining  as  the 
universal  king  and  Saviour.  The  power  of  the 
Gospel  is  its  spirit  of  hope. 

And  modern  science  is  also  filled  with  the  same 
spirit.  It  is  always  looking  forward  to  some  new 
discovery  of  divine  law.  It  predicts  progress,  it 
announces  advance,  its  theme  is  continual  develop- 
ment. According  to  science,  all  things  are  working 
together  for  good  in  the  domain  of  nature  ;  accord- 
ing  to  Christianity,  all  things  are  working  together 
for  good  in  the  domain  of  spirit. 

The  path  of  progress  also  for  each  individual  soul 
lies  along  this  highway  of  hope.  This  is  the  way  of 
salvation.  Until  we  attain  this  divine  hope  in  the 
supremacy  and  ultimate  triumph  of  good  in  the  uni- 
verse, we  are  lost  souls,  dead  souls,  —  dead  while  we 
seem  to  live.  Without  hope,  there  is  no  spring  of 
vital  power  in  the  human  heart  which  can  carry  it 
forward.  A  man  having  no  faith  in  providence, 
in  the  love  of  God,  in  human  progress,  in  immor- 
tality, may  be,  indeed,  a  conscientious,  honest,  and 
good  man.  But  his  goodness  is  without  enthusiasm, 
with  no  magnetic  power,  with  no  force  to  create  life 
in  other  souls.  It  is  a  discouraging  goodness,  a 
chilling  and  unattractive  goodness.     But  with  hope 


EDUCATION  OF  HOPE.  411 

at  the  centre  of  the  soul  all  things  become  alive. 
As  the  days  of  spring  arouse  all  nature  to  a  green 
and  growing  vitality,  so  when  hope  enters  the  soul 
it  makes  all  things  new.  It  insures  the  progress 
which  it  predicts.  Rooted  in  faith,  growing  up 
into  love;  these  make  the  three  immortal  graces  of 
the  Gospel,  whose  intertwined  arms  and  concurrent 
voices  shed  joy  and  peace  over  our  human  life. 


XX. 

EVERY   MAN   HIS   PROPER   GIFT. 


XX. 

EVERY  MAN   HIS   PROPER   GIFT. 


IT  would  be  a  source  of  great  comfort  to  us  if  we 
could  all  be  satisfied  that  each  of  us  has  his 
proper  gift.  We  sometimes  desire  the  gifts  of  others, 
and  undervalue  our  own ;  hence  envy,  rivalry,  jeal- 
ousy, and  all  uncharitableness.  It  would  be  very 
good  for  us  if  we  could  only  believe  the  fact,  that 
every  one  has  "  his  proper  gift," 

How  different  are  human  characteristics  !  How 
plain  that  God  loves  variety,  and  abhors  uniformity; 
and  how  he  must  dislike  that  kind  of  unity  which 
a  narrow  religion  and  a  narrowr  morality  are  so  apt 
to  demand. 

Look  at  a  heap  of  sand.  We  cannot  say  that 
each  grain  has  its  proper  gift,  differing  from  every 
other.  They  might  change  places,  and  no  harm 
come.  Those  that  are  at  the  top  might  just  as  well 
be  at  the  bottom,  and  the  heap  would  remain  the 
same.  But  consider  a  watch.  In  a  watch  the  case 
is  different.  There  each  wheel,  spring,  screw,  pin, 
has  its  proper  gift  from  the  watchmaker,  and  neither 


416  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

can  do  the  work  of  another.  They  cannot  change 
places.  Moreover,  the  smallest  and  most  insignifi- 
cant part  of  the  watch  is  essential  to  the  integrity  of 
the  whole.  Omit  a  single  wheel,  and  the  watch 
refuses  to  move.  Take  out  one  screw,  and  it  goes 
badly. 

Each  part  of  the  watch  is  different  in  form  and 
function  from  the  rest,  and  thus  each  is  adapted  to 
work  with  the  rest.  But  in  a  heap  of  sand  there 
is  neither  diversity  nor  adaptation.  The  particles 
resemble  each  other,  and  therefore  cannot  cohere 
nor  co-operate.  The  parts  of  a  watch  differ  from 
each  other,  and  therefore  can  cohere  and  can  co- 
operate. 

Is  human  society  like  the  heap  of  sand,  or  is  it 
like  the  watch  ?  In  its  lowest  condition  it  is  like 
the  sand ;  in  its  higher,  it  is  like  the  watch.  And 
social  progress  consists  in  passing  from  one  of  these 
conditions  to  the  other. 

Take  a  tribe  of  North  American  Indians,  or  a 
tribe  of  African  savages.  Each  man's  function  is 
like  that  of  his  neighbor.  There  is  no  division 
or  distribution  of  labor.  Every  man  is  a  hunter, 
a  fisherman,  a  fighter,  just  like  every  other  man. 
Every  woman  is  a  cook,  a  nurse,  and  a  tiller  of  the 
ground.  No  one  has  any  proper  gii't  peculiar  to 
himself;  no  special  function  which  others  cannot 
perform  as  well.  Therefore  the.  parts  of  savage 
society  do  not  cohere  nor  co-operate. 

But  consider  a  great  civilized  community  or  a 


EVERY  MAN  HIS  PROPER    GIFT  417 

great  city.  Every  man  has  his  own  trade,  his  own 
occupation  ;  one  alter  this  manner,  and.  another  after 
that.  There  are  put  down  in  the  Boston  Directory 
some  two  thousand  different  trades  carried  on  in 
this  city.  The  simplicity  of  savage  life  has  unfolded 
into  all  this  complex  and  diversified  industry. 

This  is  a  watch  with  two  thousand  different  parts, 
each  fitting  into  the  rest.  All  are  necessary  to  the 
full  life  and  activity  of  the  city.  Xo  one  can  do  the 
work  of  another ;  but,  by  each  doing  his  own  work, 
the  whole  is  carried  on.  Every  day  each  of  these 
two  thousand  industries  goes  on,  and  not  a  man  in 
them  may  know  exactly  how,  or  when,  or  where  his 
special  work  is  to  be  wanted,  or  how  it  is  to  fit  into 
the  rest.  But  it  will  be  wanted,  and  it  will  fit  into 
its  place. 

If  the  industrial  world  is  tints  developed  into 
variety  and  combination,  into  difference  and  adap- 
tation ;  is  it  not  so,  too,  in  the  moral,  intellectual, 
and  spiritual  world  ?  Does  culture  make  men  all 
morally  and  spiritually  alike,  or  does  it  develop 
differences  ?  I  think  it  evident  that,  as  men  ascend 
in  the  scale  of  being,  they  do  not  become  more 
alike,  but  more  different,  more  individual,  more 
personal. 

Take  the  great  intellects  of  the  race,  those  who 
have  unfolded  the  most  extraordinary  power  of 
genius.  Are  Plato,  Socrates,  Aristotle,  alike  ?  Are 
Homer,  Virgil,  Dante,  Spenser,  Shakspeare,  Milton, 
repetitions  of  each  other  ?     Are  Eenelon,  Channing, 


418  SELF-CULTURE. 

St.  Francis,  Confucius,  Buddha,  cast  in  the  same 
mould  ?  Are  Peter,  James,  John,  Paul,  fac-similes 
of  each  other,  or  of  their  Master  ?  No.  As  men 
unfold  and  develop,  they  unfold  into  originality, 
individuality ;  each  one  becoming  more  and  more 
himself,  less  and  less  like  any  one  else.  And  by 
becoming  himself,  by  growing  up  into  what  lie  was 
meant  to  be,  he  becomes  able  to  contribute  some 
important  element  to  human  progress.  We  do  not 
want  imitation,  —  not  even  an  imitation  of  Christ. 
Having  had  one  Homer,  we  do  not  want  another; 
having  had  one  Plato,  we  do  not  want  another;  and 
having  had  one  Christ,  we  do  not  want  another. 
Christ  does  not  make  his  apostles  feeble  imitations 
of  himself,  but  as  they  grow  up  into  him,  they  grow 
up  into  themselves. 

Every  man  has  his  own  organic  gift,  his  own  gift 
of  disposition,  faculty,  ability. 

One  man's  gift  is  to  tell  the  truth,  lie  is  a  great 
truth-teller.  He  does  not  know  how  to  say  any- 
thing which  is  insincere,  or  even  equivocal  or 
dubious.  He  conies  right  out  with  his  thought. 
It  is  sometimes  quite  alarming  to  have  such  a  man 
near  you,  for  his  word  breaks  through  the  thin  ice 
of  decorum  and  propriety  on  which  people  are 
walking,  and  they  suddenly  get  a  cold  bath  in  the 
icy  waters  of  truth.  Or,  to  change  the  figure,  his 
word  is  like  lightning,  whose  keen  blue  bolt  shatters 
the  tall  trees  from  top  to  bottom,  and  sets  the 
houses  on  fire,  but  clears  up  the  air  and  makes  it 


EVERY  MAX  HIS  PROPER    GIFT.  419 

pure,  destroying  the  seeds  of  malaria  and  pestilence. 
One  may  suffer,  but  many  will  he  benefited.  He 
may  be  very  blunt  and  rude,  but  his  word  is  whole- 
some, and  does  us  all  good.  He  was  made  to  do 
this  service.  Let  him  not  exaggerate  his  special 
tendencies,  but  let  him  use  them. 

Another  man's  organic  gift  is  to  be  good-natured 
and  agreeable ;  not  to  be  too  truthful ;  at  all  events, 
not  to  come  out  with  the  sharp  battle-axe  of  criti- 
cism and  denial  on  all  occasions.  As  in  the  garden 
we  have  vegetables,  fruits,  and  flowers,  so  in  the 
human  garden  called  society  we  have  strong  and 
useful  persons,  men  and  women  of  energy  and  prac- 
tical talent ;  then  kind  persons,  those  who  make 
life  sweet  and  dear;  lastly,  agreeable  persons,  who 
make  it  beautiful  by  their  capacity  of  imparting 
pleasure  by  a  mere  expression,  a  smile,  a  gracious 
gesture.  Lot  us  lie  thankful  for  wholesome  vegeta- 
bles, for  sweet  fruits,  for  lovely  flowers.  I  do  not 
blame  my  sweet  corn  and  tomatoes  because  they  are 
not  strawberries  and  pears;  I  do  not  quarrel  with 
my  roses  and  petunias  because  they  give  me  noth- 
ing for  my  breakfast.  And  so,  too,  if  an  agreeable 
person  comes  to  see  me,  I  thank  God  for  that  visit. 
If  1  find  a  man  helpful  and  wise,  I  am  grateful  for 
him  ;  if  I  meet  another  who  has  sympathy  and 
kindness,  though  nothing  else,  I  am  glad  of  that. 

Seine  persons  have  the  gift  of  seeing  abstract 
truth  and  absolute  right.  They  see  what  ought  to 
be  done.     They  see  the  great  end,  and  the  circui- 


420  SELF-CULTURE. 

tous  road  disappears.  They  are  prophet  voices  in 
society,  terrible  critics  and  censors;  they  are  for 
laying  the  axe  at  the  root  of  the  tree.  They  abhor 
all  compromises  between  good  and  evil.  They  can 
make  no  allowance  for  temptation,  for  circumstance, 
for  habit.  Radical  as  -John  the  Baptist,  they  cry 
aloud  in  the  wilderness  of  life,  and  say,  "  Every 
tree  that  brings  not  forth  good  fruit  must  be  hewn 
down  and  cast  into  the  tire."  Such  men  are  very 
useful.  Their  fate  is  hard,  and  their  work  severe. 
They  are  more  feared  than  loved.  They  are  favor- 
ites with  no  party.  They  are  called  impracticables 
by  some,  fanatics  by  others.  Yet  they  maintain  in 
the  world  the  conviction  that  right  and  wrong  are 
two  things,  and  not  the  same;  that  truth  and  false- 
hood are  deadly  foes,  not  companions  and  friends. 
They  testily  evermore  to  the  eternal  nature  of  moral 
distinctions,  to  the  great  gulf  fixed  between  good 
and  evil. 

God  gives  a  practical  talent  to  other  persons. 
That  also  is  a  good  gift.  They  can  see  at  once  how 
to  remove  or  avoid  difficulties ;  they  can  arrange 
anything  that  is  to  be  done  so  that  it  shall  be  done 
successfully;  they  can  organize  victory  in  great 
matters  or  in  small.  They  have  no  love  for  ab- 
stractions. They  are  not  for  cutting  their  way 
straight  forward  through  rocks  and  swamps  and  the 
tangled  wilderness;  they  prefer  to  bend  a  little,  this 
way  and  that,  and  so  get  there  sooner.  They  know 
well,  what  the  poet  says,  that  — 


EVERY  MAX  HIS  PROPER    GIFT.  421 

':  The  road  the  human  being  travels, 
That  by  which  blessing  conies  and  goes,  doth  follow 
The  river's  course,  the  valley's  peaceful  windings 
Curves  round  the  cornfield  and  the  hill  of  vines, 
Honoring  the  holy  bounds  of  property, 
And  thus  secure,  though  late,  reaches  its  end." 

There  is  a  gift  of  exceeding  serenity  with  which 
God  endows  certain  souls.  Perhaps  they  never 
say  or  do  anything  extraordinary,  but  an  in- 
fluence like  that  of  a  calm  October  day  attends 
them.  A  Sabbath-morning  rest  tranquillizes  all 
hearts  when  they  come.  Xo  impatience,  no  petu- 
lant dissatisfaction,  no  turbulent  doubts,  no  stormy 
rebellion,  can  easily  resist  the  holy  calm  which 
their  presence  brings.  They  seem  to  be  so  well 
poised  and  centred  themselves;  they  certify  to  us 
such  a  profound  inner  harmony;  they  are  so  at  one 
with  Cod  and  with  God's  world,  — that  they  inspire 
tranquillity.  They  sing  to  us  a  perpetual  hymn  of 
quiet. 

There  is  another  gift,  a  gift  of  sweetness.  How, 
in  our  troubled  lives,  could  we  do  without  those 
fair,  summery  natures,  into  which,  on  their  creation- 
day,  God  allowed  nothing  sour,  acrid,  or  latter  to 
enter,  but  made  them  a  perpetual  solace  and  com- 
fort by  their  sunshine  and  their  cheerfulness  X  These 
are  the  objects  of  universal  love,  because  their  sym- 
pathy is  universal;  they  are  those  who  cannot  be 
provoked;  who  think  no  evil;  whose  tone,  when 
they    find   fault   with    us,   is   sweeter  than   that   of 


422  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

most  others  when  they  praise  us ;  who  make  sun- 
shine in  a  shady  place ;  and  who  are  able  to  med- 
icine to  minds  diseased,  simply  by  the  balm  of 
their  sympathy.  We  do  not,  perhaps,  seek  them  in 
our  strong  and  ambitious  hour;  but  when  life  be- 
gins to  grow  hard  with  us ;  when  disappointment, 
bereavement,  pain,  attack  us ;  then  the  soft  tone  of 
their  sympathy,  the  kind  readiness  of  their  friend- 
ship, their  brotherly  and  sisterly  pity,  are  a  cheer 
and  a  blessing.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  have  this 
sweetness ;  that  is  a  proper  gift  from  the  Lord. 

Some  men  are  born  to  be  mediators ;  they  can  see 
the  truth  on  both  sides ;  they  can  enter  into  very 
different  states  of  thought,  purpose,  feeling.  They 
introduce  us  to  each  other ;  they  break  down  the 
middle  wall  of  prejudice  between  man  and  man,  be- 
tween sects,  schools,  parties,  races,  nations,  so  mak- 
ing peace. 

Others,  again,  are  not  thus  wide  ;  not  so  compre- 
hensive, but  narrow;  narrow,  swift,  straight.  They 
may  be  full  of  prejudices,  and  be  wholly  unable  to 
do  justice  to  men  unlike  themselves.  But  they 
have  a  work  to  do.  They  are  like  railroad-cars 
which  run  on  a  narrow  track,  and  cannot  get  out  of 
it.  They  will  run  over  everything  in  their  way,  but 
they  can  go  far  and  fast  in  one  direction. 

Hopefulness  is  a  gift.  It  is  a  help  to  us  all  to 
have  some  one  who  is  inclined  to  hope;  who  has 
faith  in  good  as  stronger  than  evil;  who  trusts  in 
God,  and  looks  forward  to  a  kingdom  of  heaven. 


EVERY  MAN  HIS  PROPER   GIFT.  423 

Such  hope  inspires  us  all  with  courage ;  makes  us 
more  ready  to  undertake  any  work,  and  encounter 
any  danger. 

But  others  have  a  gift  of  cautiousness,  and  that  is 
equally  important  and  valuable.  They  show  the 
difficulties  in  the  way,  and  so  save  us  from  a  thou- 
sand errors.  They  sometimes  check  us  when  we 
wish  to  go  forward  hastily,  or  turn  us  backward 
when  we  think  we  might  move  on ;  but  this  saves 
us  from  mistakes  and  long  wanderings,  which  would 
use  up  strength  and  heart. 

God  gives  to  one  man  the  gift  of  writing  books, 
speeches,  or  sermons ;  and  he  writes,  prints,  and 
preaches  what  may  call  men  to  repentance,  and 
awaken  the  sense  of  responsibility,  or  the  feeling  of 
religious  trust.  But  God  bestows  on  another  the  gift 
of  living  sermons,  and  wherever  the  man  goes  his 
life  preaches.  It  preaches  conscientiousness.  He 
is  one  who  would  not  do  another  a  wrong  for  any 
gain  or  success.  It  preaches  generosity.  He  for- 
gets himself;  he  delights  in  helping  his  neighbor. 
It  preaches  humility.  He  is  willing  to  do  any 
lowly  act  of  goodness,  to  bear  any  burden.  He  has 
his  proper  gift,  and  he  uses  it  properly.  Who  shall 
say  that  he  has  not  turned  as  many  to  righteous- 
ness as  any  golden-mouthed  Chrysostom  of  ancient 
or  modern  days  ? 

One  man,  like  Dr.  Lardner,  or  Bishop  Butler,  or 
Archdeacon  Paley,  may  write  books  on  "  The  Evi- 
dences of  Christianity,"  or  "The  Credibility  of  the 


424  SELF-CUL  TIRE. 

Gospels,"  and  so  convert  many  sceptics.  Another 
may,  by  his  goodness,  translate  the  Gospels  into 
daily  life,  and  so  make  them  credible.  His  good 
life  is  the  best  evidence  of  Christianity. 

Even  the  sceptic,  the  doubter,  has  his  proper  gift 
from  the  Lord.  Else,  why  did  Jesus  choose  Thomas 
as  one  of  his  apostles  ]  llunie,  Hobbes,  Tom  Paine, 
Voltaire,  all  have  their  use.  They  came  to  point 
out  the  weak  places  in  the  popular  religion,  and  thus 
lead  us  to  mend  them.  Every  attack  on  Christian- 
ity, from  the  time  of  Celsus  and  Porphyry  to  that  of 
Strauss  or  Frothingham,  has  strengthened  it,  brought 
out  new  defenders,  new  arguments,  and  better  ones, 
in  its  behalf.  "We  ought  not  to  be  angry  with  the 
honest  critics  and  doubters,  but  make  use  of  them. 

That  variety  which  is  good  in  the  natural  world, 
why  should  it  be  bad  in  the  spiritual  world  ?  We 
do  not  quarrel  with  an  apple  because  it  is  not  a 
peach,  nor  with  a  pine  which  gives  us  lumber,  be- 
cause it  is  not  mahogany  to  give  us  furniture.  Why, 
then,  should  Orthodox  and  Unitarian,  Methodist  and 
Quaker,  quarrel  ? 

What  sort  of  a  garden  would  it  be  in  which  there 
was  only  one  kind  of  flower  or  one  kind  of  fruit  1 
Rather  a  monotonous  and  stupid  garden,  probably. 
But  the  church  lias  hitherto  seemed  to  consider  it- 
self, not  a  garden  of  fruit,  but  an  army  of  soldiers, 
who  are  all  to  be  drilled  in  one  way,  to  be  dressed 
in  the  same  uniform,  to  be  just  of  the  same  height, 
and  cany  the  same  regulation  weapons.      For  the 


EVERY  MAN  HIS  PROPER   GIET.  425 

object,  too  often,  is  not  to  educate  men  to  do  good 
aud  to  bear  fruit,  but  to  fight  with  other  sects,  to 
give  battle  for  creeds,  to  win  victories  for  the  church. 

The  man  who  sings,  "Am  1  a  soldier  of  the  cross  V 
often  means,  "Am  I  not  a  soldier  of  this  or  that  de- 
nomination \  " 

There  is  also  a  gift  of  insight.  I  used  to  notice 
these  .varieties  of  gifts  with  delight  in  classes  for  the 
study  of  history,  or  of  the  Bible;  and  I  have  known 
persons  often,  who,  by  simply  fixing  their  thoughts 
quietly  on  a  subject,  would  lie  sure  to  have  a  sight 
of  some  truth  connected  with  it.-  Then  another 
would  have  not  this,  but  dialectic  power;  power  of 
seeing  the  reason  or  the  unreason  of  a  thing ;  power 
of  distinguishing  between  things  different,  showing 
what  was  proved  and  what  was  not  proved  by  a  fact 
or  an  argument.  Another  would  have  judgment, — 
judgment  enriched  and  made  clear  by  knowledge  of 
the  world  and  of  mankind  ;  such  judgment  as  would 
seem  like  a  fan  in  the  hand  to  winnow  the  chaff 
from  the  wheat.  Another  would  bring  a  deep  inner 
experience,  a  whole  internal  life  of  struggle,  prayer, 
self-devotion,  self-surrender,  trial  borne,  duty  done, 
temptation  resisted,  God  sought  after  and  found, 
Christ's  salvation  received  and  lived.  Still  another 
would  have  experience  of  human  wants  and  how 
they  were  to  be  helped;  he  would  know  what  men 
suffer  and  what  they  desire.  Thus,  each  one  contrib- 
uting, according  to  his  own  gift,  the  whole  subject 
would  be  thoroughly  studied.     So  that  1  have  often 


42  6  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

felt,  while  listening  to  such  a  conversation,  that  I 
could  understand  the  words  of  Paul,  and  say  that 
to  one  was  given  by  the  spirit  the  word  of  wisdom, 
to  another  knowledge  by  the  same  spirit,  to  another 
faith  by  the  same  spirit,  to  another  prophecy,  to 
another  discerning  of  spirits,  and  the  like. 

There  is  nothing  which  would  make  us  more  tol- 
erant of  differences,  mere  charitable  to  those  from 
whom  our  opinions  and  tastes  render  us  averse,  than 
these  considerations.  These  differences  are  from 
God ;  he  made  us  to  differ,  and  he  appointed  this 
difference  for  wise  ends.  I  sometimes  think  that 
the  wisest  axiom  in  the  world,  the  saying  that  goes 
further  than  any  other  toward  explaining  the  uni- 
verse, is  that  popular  proverb,  "  It  takes  all  sorts  of 
people  to  make  a  world."  This  proverb  expresses 
the  wonderful  fulness  and  richness  of  the  world,  its 
thousandfold  varieties,  all  working  together  in  one 
grand  harmony  of  adaptations.  Attractions  and 
repulsions,  loves  and  hates,  co-operations  and  com- 
petitions, rivalry  and  opposition  on  the  one  side, 
partnerships  and  associations  on  the  other,  all  result 
at  last  in  an  orbed  and  beautiful  whole.  If  any  of 
us  had  made  the  world,  what  a  very  stupid  one  it 
would  probably  have  been.  Utilitarians  would  have 
excluded  poets  and  artists,  poets  would  have  shut 
out  utilitarians.  Conservatives  would  banish  re- 
formers, and  reformers  would  exclude  conservatives. 
The  orthodox  dogmatists  would  have  prevented  all 
heretics    from    making    their   appearance,    and   vice, 


EVERY  MAN  HIS  PROPER   GIFT.  427 

versa.  But  God  lets  them  all  come  in,  and,  in  his 
hospitable  world,  provides  room  and  place  for  all. 
The  poor  Bushman,  the  Hottentot,  the  wild  Austra- 
lian, the  idolatrous  and  heathen  multitudes  who 
worship  Boodh,  or  who  bow  to  a  Fetish,  lie  lets  them 
all  in  ;  just  as  he  admits  spider  and  snake,  hippopot- 
amus and  rhinoceros,  tiger  and  monkey.  So  in  our 
society  he  gives  room  for  the  conceited  pedant,  the 
foolish  fop,  the  shallow  prattler,  the  buffoon,  the 
bully,  the  blackleg,  the  border-ruffian,  the  rep>*di- 
ator,  the  empty-headed  communist,  and  the  political 
wire-puller.  It  takes  them  all  to  make  God's  world, 
and  all  have  their  uses,  however  we  might  wish,  in 
our  haste,  to  exclude  them.  "  For  God  hath  chosen 
the  foolish  things  of  the  world  to  confound  the  wise, 
and  weak  things  of  the  world  to  confound  the  mighty, 
and  base  things  of  the  world,  and  things  which  are 
despised  hath  God  chosen ;  yea,  and  things  which 
are  not,  to  bring  to  nought  the  things  which  are." 

Let  us  also  firmly  believe  that  each  of  us  has  his 
gift.  Let  us  not  imagine  that  we  are  disinherited 
by  our  heavenly  Father,  any  one  of  us.  Let  us  be 
ourselves,  as  God  has  made  us,  then  we  shall  be 
something  good  and  useful. 

One  star  differs  from  another  star  in  glory,  but 
every  star  contributes  to  the  splendor  of  the  winter's 
night.  The  man  who  has  one  talent  must  not  bury 
it  in  the  earth ;  the  man  who  is  called  at  the  eleventh 
hour  is  equal  in  fidelity,  if  he  works  that  one  hour, 
to  those  who  have  labored  all  the  day. 


428  SELF-CULTURE. 

It  is  a  matter  of  great  importance  to  find  what 
our  proper  gift  is.  A  man  who  might  be  extremely 
useful  in  one  situation  goes  into  a  place  and  work 
he  has  no  talent  for,  and  so  loses  his  labor,  and  his 
life  is  of  no  profit.  He  has  mistaken  his  calling,  we 
say.  That  word  "  calling  "  indicates  the  old  relig- 
ious feeling  about  occupation ;  it  expresses  that  we 
should  do  that  work  which  we  are  called  to  do,  not 
the  work  we  choose  ourselves.  "Well  would  it  be 
for  young  men  entering  life  to  fall  back  on  this  old 
idea.  Now,  a  young  man  selects  the  business  which 
he  thinks  will  give  him  the  best  chance  of  making 
a  fortune,  of  getting  a  good  position  in  society,  of 
leading  an  easy  and  comfortable  life.  He  does  not 
ask,  "  To  what  business  am  I  called  ?  For  what  has 
God  given  me  capacity  ?  In  what  can  I  be  the 
most  useful  to  the  world  and  do  the  most  good  ? 
"What  occupation  suits  my  special  gift  and  power  ? " 
But  not  asking  such  questions,  he  not  only  throws 
away  usefulness,  but  happiness  with  it. 

Let  every  one  be  himself,  and  not  try  to  be  some 
one  else.  God,  who  looked  on  the  world  he  had 
made,  and  said  it  was  all  good,  made  each  of  us  to 
be  just  what  our  own  gifts  and  faculties  fit  us  to 
be.  Be  that  and  do  that,  and  so  be  contented.  Rev- 
erence, also,  each  other's  gifts  ;  do  not  quarrel  with 
me  because  I  am  not  you,  and  I  will  do  the  same. 
God  made  your  brother  as  well  as  yourself.  He 
made  you,  perhaps,  to  be  bright;  he  made  him  slow; 
he  mad';   you  practical;  he  made  him  speculative; 


EVERY  MAN  HIS  PROPER   GIFT.  429 

he  made  one  strong  and  another  weak,  one  tough 
and  another  tender ;  but  the  same  good  God  made 
us  all.  Let  us  not  torment  each  other  because  we 
are  not  all  alike,  but  believe  that  God  knew  best 
what  he  was  doing  in  making  us  so  different.  So 
will  the  best  harmony  come  out  of  seeming  discords, 
the  best  affection  out  of  differences,  the  best  life  out 
of  struggle,  and  the  best  work  will  be  done  when 
each  does  his  own  work,  and  lets  every  one  else  do 
and  be  what  God  made  him  for. 


XXI. 

LET    US    DO    WHAT    WE    CAN. 


XXI. 

LET  US   DO   WHAT   WE   CAN. 


THEKE  is  a  story  in  all  the  Gospels  of  a 
woman  who  put  precious  ointment  on  the  feet 
of  her  Master,  so  that  the  house  was  filled  with  its 
odor.  Judas  found  fault  with  her,  on  utilitarian 
grounds.  He  thought  it  would  have  been  better 
to  have  sold  the  ointment  and  given  the  proceeds  to 
the  poor.  So  it  would,  on  utilitarian  principles. 
According  to  the  rules  of  political  economy,  Judas 
was  right,  Matthew  says  the  other  disciples  agreed 
with  him,  and  were  indignant  at  "  the  waste."  "  Tc 
what  purpose  is  this  waste  ? "  said  they.  Yes,  the 
ointment  was  wasted,  if  everything  is  wasted  which 
does  not  produce  a  visible,  outward  result.  If  noth- 
ing is  useful  but  what  can  be  measured,  weighed, 
tabulated,  counted,  and  put  into  statistical  tables, 
then  this  action  was  useless.  But  if  that  is  good 
which  feeds  the  mind  and  heart,  which  strengthens 
the  soul ;  if  affection  is  useful,  and  sentiment  is 
useful;  if  man  does  not  live  by  bread  only,  but  by 
every  word  which  proceeds  out  of  the  mouth  of 
28 


434  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

God,  the  ointment  was  not  wasted,  but  put  to  its 
highest  possible  use. 

In  front  of  a  building  on  Tremont  Street,  in 
Boston,  there  stand  some  statues,  carved  of  granite, 
graceful  and  pleasing  works  of  art.  They  cost 
several  thousand  dollars.  The  building  would  have 
answered  all  its  purposes  as  a  Horticultural  Hall 
just  as  well  without  them.  The  amount  which  they 
cost  would  have  provided  a  comfortable  home  for  a 
number  of  persons  who  are  now  living  in  cellars 
and  exposed  to  disease.  According  to  the  utilitarian 
view  of  things,  then,  it  was  a  waste  to  put  the 
statues  there.  But  every  poor  man  in  the  city  is 
a  little  better,  every  child  who  lives  in  a  cellar  is  a 
little  happier,  for  being  in  a  city  in  which,  besides 
cold  brick  walls,  there  is  something  to  please  the 
eye  and  fill  the  heart.  Even  the  poor  street-boy 
who  blacks  your  shoes  does  not  live  by  bread  alone. 
And  God,  who  squanders  beauty  every  day  on  the 
clouds  of  morning  and  evening ;  who  wastes  it  in 
tender  grasses,  mosses,  and  ferns  in  the  depths  of 
inaccessible  woods ;  on  lovely  creatures  who  live  in 
the  depths  of  ocean  ;  he,  no  doubt,  thinks  it  a  good 
thing  that  we  also  should  do  something  for  the  souls 
of  a  community,  no  less  than  for  its  bodies. 

Why  not  sell  the  Public  Garden  for  several 
millions  of  dollars,  and  give  the  money  to  the  poor  ? 
You  could  provide  several  dinners  tor  every  poor 
person  in  Boston  out  of  the  proceeds.  But  the 
dinners,  once  eaten,  are  gone,  and  those  who  ate 


LET  US  DO    WHAT  WE   CAAr.  435 

them  are  no  better  for  it.  But  now,  every  poor 
man  and  woman,  after  the  labor  of  the  day,  can  get 
a  breath  of  fresh  air,  scented  by  fragrant  shrubs,  in 
the  evening  twilight ;  poor  children  can  go  and  see 
those  beds  of  tulips,  such  as  the  gardens  of  no 
millionaires  can  rival.  There,  in  the  soft  atmosphere 
of  night,  in  sight  of  the  eternal  stars,  young  lovers, 
who  have  no  rooms  where  they  can  meet,  may  walk 
together  and  sit  together,  and  talk  their  foolish  little 
chat.  The  poorest  man  in  Boston  is  ennobled  in 
his  own  esteem,  and  takes  courage  when  he  thinks 
that  the  Common,  and  Public  Garden,  and  the 
Public  Library  belong  to  him  and  to  his  children. 
Is  it  not  a  good  thing  that  the  poor  of  Boston  should 
have  for  their  use  the  best  park,  the  best  garden, 
and  the  best  library  in  the  State  ? 

Jesus,  therefore,  did  not  blame  Mary,  but  defended 
her  against  the  blame  of  Judas.  He  said,  "Let  her 
alone.  She  hath  wrought  a  good  work.  She  hath 
done  what  she  could.  She  hath  come  beforehand 
to  anoint  my  body  for  the  burying.  Wherever  this 
Gospel  is  preached,  this  shall  be  spoken  of  in  her 
praise." 

But  suppose,  now,  that  this  woman,  instead  of 
doing  "  what  she  could,"  had  stopped  to  consider 
what  might  be  done,  or  what  ought  to  be  done,  or 
what  she  would  like  to  do.  Suppose  she  had  said, 
"What  good  will  it  do  for  me  to  go  and  carry  my 
ointment  ?  It  will  seem  presumptuous,  silly,  ridic- 
ulous.    They  will  laugh  at  me,  perhaps  blame  me- 


436  SELF-CULTURE. 

I  should  like  to  do  some  great  thing  for  the  Master. 
I  wish  I  could  induce  the  Pharisees  and  Scribes  to 
accept  him  as  the  Christ.  That  would  be  worth 
while,  for  they  have  influence.  But  it  would  be  of 
no  use  for  me  to  go  to  him.  Nobody  cares  for  me." 
If  she  had  reasoned  thus,  and  acted  accordingly, 
she  would  have  reasoned  and  acted  as  you  and  I 
are  continually  reasoning  and  acting;  but,  then,  she 
would  not  have  received  the  censure  of  Judas,  nor 
the  praise  of  Jesus ;  nor  would  the  Scripture  this 
day  be  fulfilled  in  our  ears,  that  wherever  the  Gospel 
is  preached  this  is  spoken  of  in  her  honor. 

"  She  hath  done  what  she  could."  This  is  the 
essential  thing.  We  are  not  bound  to  do  great 
things,  but  only  to  do  what  we  can.  When  con- 
science tells  us  that  something  ought  to  be  done, 
when  our  heart  prompts  us  to  do  anything,  then 
let  us  go  and  do  it.  Let  us  not  fritter  away  the 
impulse,  and  freeze  the  motive  by  asking,  What 
good  will  it  do  ?  Some  things  are  good  in  them- 
selves. Some  tilings  are  an  end  in  themselves. 
They  are  their  own  excuse  for  being.  And  such 
are  all  acts  of  conscience,  religion,  love,  faith,  which 
we  are  led  to  do,  not  from  selfish  considerations,  but 
from  a  generous  impulse  of  the  soul. 

What  a  change  would  take  place  in  all  our  lives 
if  we  only  made  up  our  minds  to  do  what  we  can 
every  day ;  having  faith  that,  if  we  do  anything 
light,  however  small,  God  will  help  us  to  do  more. 
We  do  nothing  because   we   cannot  do  everything. 


LET   US  DO    WHAT   WE    CAN.  437 

We  do  not  begin  to  do  a  good  thing  because  it  is 
not  already  done.  We  do  not  take  the  first  step 
because  we  have  not  already  reached  the  goal. 
Sometimes  indolence  prevents  us  from  doing  what 
we  can.  In  all  revolving  machinery  there  is  one 
point  where  the  motor  force  does  not  operate.  To 
get  over  that  point  of  inertia  is  the  difficulty.  So 
with  us ;  frequently  all  motives  fail  to  move  us  to 
begin  to  do  the  right  action.  If  we  get  over  that 
point  of  inertia,  all  goes  well  enough. 

Then,  again,  selfishness  often  keeps  us  from 
doing  what  we  can.  We  are  afraid  that  if  we  do 
anything,  we  may  have  to  do  more.  We  are  not 
happy  while  we  live  only  for  ourselves,  but  then 
we  cannot  make  up  our  minds  to  live  for  others. 
So  we  wear  life  away,  and  accomplish  nothing  for 
others  or  ourselves,  because  we  cannot,  just  for 
once,  forget  ourselves  entirely  in  some  generous 
action,  some  great  cause  not  our  own,  some  convic- 
tion of  duty.  I  see  many  people  to  whom  God  has 
given  all  means,  all  opportunities,  who  could  every 
day  be  a  blessing  to  some  one  with  hardly  any 
more  effort  than  is  required  to  put  out  their  hand  ; 
who,  instead,  have  built  themselves  into  a  sort  of 
fortress ;  have  intrenched  themselves  with  all  pos- 
sible defences  against  any  chance  of  coming  into 
contact  with  those  whom  they  could  aid.  I  pity 
them  ;  they  do  not  know  what  they  are  losing. 

Sometimes,  also,  conscience  keeps  us  from  doing 
what  we  can.     There  is  so  much  that  we  ought  to 


438  SELF-CULTURE. 

do,  such  a  burden  of  responsibility  on  our  conscience, 
that  we  are  paralyzed  by  it.  We  are  discouraged 
by  the  amount  of  obligation.  We  are  also  dis- 
couraged by  the  amount  of  our  past  neglect.  We 
have  left  undone  so  much  that  we  ought  to  have 
done,  that  it  seems  hopeless  to  try  now  to  do  any- 
thing. We  are  like  a  man  who  has  gone  so  deeply 
in  debt  that  he  sees  no  chance  of  ever  paying  the 
whole,  and  so  he  does  not  try  to  pay  anything. 

The  imagination  sometimes  prevents  us  from 
doing  what  we  can.  The  ideal  so  far  surpasses  the 
possible  that  we  are  discouraged.  Everything  we 
do  looks  so  mean  by  the  side  of  our  idea  of  what 
might  be  done.  With  the  summit  in  our  eye,  we 
walk  on  the  plain,  and  do  not  attempt  to  climb. 

Moreover,  a  false  theology  sometimes,  by  its  exor- 
bitant demands,  prevents  us  from  doing  what  we 
can.  It  tells  us  that  our  best  works  are  sinful; 
that  all  common  goodness  is  only  filthy  rags  in  the 
sight  of  God ;  that  unless  we  are  in  the  true  church, 
and  hold  the  right  creed,  and  have  gone  through 
the  right  experience,  all  our  virtue  is  good  for  noth- 
ing. This  is  discouraging;  and,  just  so  far  as  it  is 
believed,  it  prevents  people  from  doing  what  they 
can.  It  tells  them  they  can  do  nothing  till  God 
comes  and  gives  them  a  new  heart.  It  teaches 
"  inability  "  to  such  an  extent  that  people  regard  it 
as  a  religious  act  to  do  nothing.  They  say  they 
honor  God  by  ceasing  from  their  own  works. 

But,  now,  the  peculiar  and  essential  doctrine  of 


LET  US  DO    WHAT  WE   CAN.  439 

Christianity  —  the  gospel  in  the  gospel  —  lies  just 
here ;  that  God  promises  to  help  us  to  do  all  so 
soon  as  we  are  willing  to  do  something ;  that  he  for- 
gives us  our  debt  as  soon  as  we  are  ready  to  forgive 
our  debtors;  that  we  may  leave  the  past  to  him  and 
the  future  to  him,  if  we  will  only  do  now  whatever 
our  hand  finds  to  do.  Christ  comes  as  a  present 
Saviour  to  give  us  our  daily  bread,  to  help  us  now, 
and  to  make  now  the  day  of  salvation.  Saving 
faith  is  being  willing  to  trust  our  salvation  to  God, 
and  not  to  be  anxious  about  it  at  all,  just  as  a  child  is 
not  troubled  about  to-morrow's  dinner,  or  its  win- 
ter's clothes,  but  leaves  all  that  to  its  father  and 
mother. 

Those  who  try  to  believe  too  much  often  end  by 
believing  too  little.  Those  who  try  to  feel  too  much 
at  last  freeze  their  hearts,  and  cannot  feel  at  all. 
Never  try  to  believe  more  than  you  can.  If  you 
can  only  believe  a  little,  but  believe  that  honestly, 
it  will  either  lead  to  more,  or  else  it  may  do  you  as 
much  good  as  more  belief.  God,  who  has  chosen 
the  foolish  things  of  this  world  to  confound  the 
wise,  and  feeble  things  to  confound  the  mighty,  and 
things  which  are  not  to  bring  to  nought  those  which 
are,  sometimes  chooses  atheists  and  infidels  to  con- 
found by  their  goodness  the  most  orthodox  believers. 
I  do  not  believe  in  holding  up  gamblers  like  John 
Morrissey  to  public  admiration  because  he  did  not 
take  bribes  in  Congress ;  but  even  he  may  rise  up 
in  the  day  of  judgment,  with  the  people  of  Sodom 


440  SELF-CULTURE. 

and  Gomorrah,  to  condemn  the  professors  of  relig- 
ion who,  while  teaching  Bible-classes  on  Sunday, 
are  robbing  the  corporations  of  which  they  are 
treasurers  during  all  the  rest  of  the  week. 

It  is  time  that  a  little  more  stress  was  laid  on 
simple  honesty.  It  is  not  every  man  who  can  be  a 
great  saint,  or  a  mighty  preacher,  or  a  founder  of  hos- 
pitals ;  but  every  man  can  be  faithful  in  his  work. 
If  he  is  a  mechanic,  he  can  do  his  work  well,  and 
not  put  sham  work  in  the  place  of  true.  If  he  is 
the  president  or  director  of  a  bank  or  of  a  manufac- 
turing corporation,  he  can  do  his  duty  by  thor- 
oughly examining  the  affairs  of  the  institution,  by 
not  allowing  the  cashier  or  treasurer  to  run  away 
with  the  funds,  and  then  being  astonished  and  say- 
ing he  did  not  know  anything  about  it.  The  Apos- 
tle John  could  find  no  better  thing  to  say  to  his  old 
friend  than  this :  "  Brother,  thou  art  faithful  in  all 
that  thou  doest."  But  we  are  more  advanced,  and 
want  "  smart "  men,  not  faithful  men ;  and  when 
the  smart  men  run  away  with  our  property  we  won- 
der why  it  was  so.  Possibly,  if  i:  they  did  not  know 
everything  down  in  Judee,"  they  did  know  some 
things  of  which  we  might  make  use. 

If  we  wish  to  be  useful,  the  only  way  is  to  do 
what  we  can.  Do  not  seek  fur  a  great  thing, 
and  do  not  be  afraid  of  a  great  tiling  if  it  conies. 
If  you  see  that  something  ought  to  be  done, 
then  probably  you  are  the  person  to  do  it.  If  you 
are,  you  will  be  enabled  to  do  it.      The  greatest 


LET  US  DO    WHAT  WE   CAN.  441 

deeds  have  not  been  done  by  the  greatest  people, 
but  by  the  most  faithful  people ;  by  those  who  are 
not  in  a  hurry  to  find  the  great  thing,  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  not  afraid  of  it  when  it  is  sent  to  them. 
We  learn  thus  how  God's  strength  is  made  perfect 
in  our  weakness.  We  take  one  step,  and  it  leads  to 
another.  Luther  did  not  commence  the  Preforma- 
tion with  any  deliberate  purpose  of  doing  such  a 
work.  He  simply  did  what  he  could  to  put  a  stop 
to  the  practical  evils  resulting  from  the  sale  of  in- 
dulgences ;  and  so  he  was  led  on  till  he  found  him- 
self contending,  single-handed,  against  the  whole 
church.  Then  he  was  obliged  to  say  :  "  Here  I 
stand!  I  cannot  do  otherwise.  God  help  me!" 
And  then  the  whole  Reformation  followed. 

We,  who  have  not  to  reform  the  universal  church, 
but  only  to  reform  ourselves  and  to  reform  the  little 
circle  around  us,  may  have  a  work  to  do  just  as  im- 
portant in  the  sight  of  God  as  that  of  Luther.  Who 
knows  what  great  influences  may  go  out  of  the 
small  sphere  in  which  you  and  I  are  placed  ?  Who 
knows  what  may  be  done  by  that  child  over  whom 
your  life  sheds  light  or  darkness,  according  to  your 
fidelity  ?  As  the  great  Amazon  or  [Mississippi, 
which  flows  through  half  a  continent,  comes  from 
the  blending  influences  of  sun  and  shower,  of  dew 
and  snow-storm  ;  comes  from  affluents  fed  in  many 
a  quiet  valley,  —  so  the  great  river  of  God,  the  king- 
dom of  truth  and  love,  comes  from  the  co-operation 
of  thousands  of  hearts  and  lives,  which  are  ignorant 


442  SELF-CULTURE. 

of  each  other  now,  but  which  are  working  together 
unconsciously.  They  shall  see  each  other  hereafter 
in  the  judgment,  and  recognize  each  other  as  fellow- 
laborers  in  the  great  cause  of  the  Gospel. 

Suppose  that  we  wish  to  be  loved  by  our  friends. 
That  is  right.  We  all  need  to  be  loved  in  order  to 
be  happy.  The  man  who  has  no  friends  may  have 
everything  else,  but  he  must  be  an  unhappy  person. 
The  whole  secret  here,  also,  is  in  doing  what  you 
can  for  your  friends.  You  cannot  get  affection  by 
looking  for  it  or  seeking  it.  It  must  come  of  its 
own  accord,  if  at  all.  It  comes  from  little  things, 
not  great  ones.  We  communicate  happiness  to 
others,  not  often  by  great  acts  of  devotion  and  self- 
sacrifice,  but  by  the  absence  of  fault-finding  and 
censure,  by  being  ready  to  sympathize  with  their 
notions  and  feelings,  instead  of  forcing  them  to  sym- 
pathize with  ours.  If  we  are  captious  and  queru- 
lous, if  we  complain  of  this  and  find  fault  with  that, 
we  may  be  right  in  our  judgments,  but  we  repel 
sympathy.  It  is  so  much  better,  and  so  easy,  to 
look  at  the  good  side  of  things  first,  and,  if  we  must 
find  fault,  do  so  afterward.  We  cannot,  to  be  sure, 
make  ourselves  attractive  and  amiable  by  an  effort. 
But  this  is  something  we  can  do.  We  can  think 
and  speak  of  what  is  pleasant  rather  than  of  what 
is  disagreeable ;  of  sunshine  more  than  storm ;  we 
can,  in  little  things,  try  to  make  others  happy. 

Or,  suppose  we  wish  for  improvement.  That  is  a 
right  thing  to  desire.    Progress  is  essential  to  peace. 


LET  US  DO    WHAT  WE   CAN.  443 

To  go  round  and  round  in  a  circle  without  going  for- 
ward is  tedious.  The  reason  why  so  many  people 
are  not  happy,  who  have  all  the  means  of  happiness, 
is  that  everything  seems  just  the  same  to-day  that 
it  was  yesterday.  Life  grows  very  tiresome  where 
there  is  no  progress.  But  there  are  only  two  kinds 
of  progress,  —  one  outward,  the  other  inward.  We 
can  make  progress  by  getting  more  and  more  of 
outward  things,  or  by  becoming  more  inwardly.  As 
long  as  we  can  keep  getting  on  in  the  world,  getting 
up  higher  in  society,  growing  richer,  becoming  more 
famous,  there  is  a  certain  sort  of  satisfaction  about 
it.  But  this  does  not  last.  The  only  real  satisfac- 
tion there  is,  is  to  be  growing  up  inwardly  all  the 
time,  becoming  more  just,  true,  generous,  simple, 
manly,  womanly,  kind,  active.  And  this  we  can  all 
do,  not  by  an  effort,  not  by  a  struggle,  but  by  doing 
each  day  the  day's  work  as  well  as  we  can.  A  man 
grows  good  and  strong  and  wise,  just  as  an  elm-tree 
grows  large,  stately,  and  graceful ;  grows  more  and 
more  luxuriant  with  its  thousand  swinging  branches 
and  myriad'  flickering  leaves.  It  is  by  being  true 
to  himself  and  to  his  work,  standing  where  he  is, 
and  being  faithful  in  the  least  thing  that  comes. 
Then  he  grows,  day  by  day,  and  we  have  the  joy  of 
seeing  a  generous,  pure  youth  pass  into  an  active, 
useful  manhood,  active  manhood  mature  into  the 
sweet  and  tender  wisdom  of  age.  Men  and  women, 
standing  in  their  place,  doing  their  work,  trusting 
in  God's  love  and  help,  grow  deeper,  soar  higher, 


444  SELF-CULTURE. 

spread  more  widely  as  the  years  pass.  They  do 
not,  perhaps,  pass  for  saints,  for  they  do  no  extraor- 
dinary things.  They  do  not  retire  into  convents  to 
pass  days  in  prayer.  But  every  one  learns  to  honor 
and  love  them  increasingly ;  men  come  to  lean 
on  their  strength,  take  counsel  of  their  experience ; 
they  spread  light  and  peace  around  them,  day  by 
day,  and  so  cause  the  kingdom  of  God  to  come 
more  and  more,  simply  by  doing  what  they  can. 

Whenever  we  do  what  we  can,  we  immediately 
can  do  more.  When  men  are  ascending  a  moun- 
tain, each  step,  so  insignificant  in  itself,  carries  them 
on  and  up,  till  new  scenes  open  before  them.  They 
have  only  to  keep  walking  on,  taking  one  step  at  a 
time,  and  presently  they  find  themselves  rising 
above  the  region  of  forests,  begin  to  get  glimpses  of 
blue  lakes  lying  below  them,  of  sister  peaks  rising 
above  them,  of  the  great  snow-covered  fields  which 
soar  upward,  pure  and  cold,  into  the  glittering  air ; 
they  see  the  distant  ocean,  spotted  with  white  sails, 
the  forest  rolling  its  sea  of  verdure  far  away  up  to 
the  pale  horizon.  So,  as  we  keep  doing  what  we 
can,  steadily,  constantly,  life  opens  before  us,  heaven 
opens  above  us,  the  world  conies  around  us,  rich, 
varied,  beautiful,  and  we  find  ourselves  on  great, 
eminences  of  thought  and  love,  hardly  knowing  how 
we  came  there,  for  we  have  been  only  doing  what 
we  could  all  the  time,  —  no  more,  no  less. 

Half  the  good  that  is  done  comes  from  being 
thoughtful,  considerate,  and  accommodating.     Soma 


LET  US  DO    WHAT  WE   CAN.  445 

people  are  always  so.  In  almost  every  village  or 
town  you  find  some  one  person  who  is  always  ready 
to  think  for  others,  to  consider  what  others  feel,  and 
to  accommodate  his  wishes  and  acts  to  their  needs. 
Perhaps  it  is  a  good  old  lady,  one  who  has  long  since 
risen  above  the  prejudice  of  sect,  party,  caste  in  so- 
ciety, and  amuses  herself  every  day  by  helping  those 
forlorn  people  whom  we  call  "  inefficient,"  in  study- 
ing the  difficulties  of  stupid  people  who  do  not  know 
how  to  help  themselves,  in  entering  into  the  immense 
affairs  of  little  boys  and  girls.  She  is  the  help  and 
reliance  of  old  and  young,  good  and  bad,  saint  and 
sinner. 

One  of  the  best  things  in  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  is 
the  stress  it  lays  on  small  tilings.  It  ascribes  more 
value  to  quality  than  to  quantity  ;  it  teaches  that 
God  does  not  ask  how  much  we  do,  but  how  we  do 
it.  The  generous  widow  who  put  her  two  coppers 
into  the  treasury  gave  more  than  all  the  rest.  The 
Publican  who  prayed  the  shortest  prayer  on  record, 
a  prayer  in  seven  worcis,  went  down  to  his  house 
justified  more  than  those  who  had  recited  long  lit- 
urgies. Thus  the  Gospel  rebukes  the  indolence 
which  will  not  begin  to  work,  the  selfishness  which 
lives  only  for  itself,  the  timidity  which  is  afraid  of 
( rod,  the  scruples  of  conscience  which  avoid  respon- 
sibility. It  says  to  all,  Begin  now,  at  once,  to  do 
what  you  can  for  God,  for  man,  for  truth,  for  right. 
Begin,  and  he  will  take  the  responsibility  for  the 
result.     Begin,  and  do  what  you  can,  not  thinking 


446  SELF-CUL  TURE. 

of  the  past  or  the  future,  but  only  of  that  now,  which 
is  always  the  day  of  salvation.  Your  past  sins  shall 
be  forgiven  if  you  begin  now  to  do  right,  for  that  is 
repentance.  Your  future  salvation  you  may  trust  to 
God,  while  you  are  doing  what  you  ought  now.  This 
trust,  which  throws  off  all  anxiety  about  past  sin 
and  future  salvation,  while  it  does  what  it  can  now, 
leaning  on  God's  help,  —  this  is  the  faith  which 
saves  the  soul,  which  casts  out  all  fear,  which  fills 
the  heart  with  peace,  which  takes  the  sting  from 
death,  and  surrounds  us  with  the  summer  atmos- 
phere of  hope  and  love. 


u 


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